False Affections
by after the curtain
Summary: After Hermione and Draco find themselves in a compromising position, Hermione realizes he has woken something that has been slumbering inside her. Is it really possible for the two to remain just enemies with benefits?
1. Chapter 1

Author's note: I've finally decided to post my first and only fic. It's been rolling around my head for quite a while now, so hopefully you will be pleased with the endless tweaking it has undergone these past few months.

**Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns the world of Harry Potter, I just play in it.  
**

She had known it had been coming—it only made sense. She was the smartest witch in her year, and he was the only logical wizard to pick aside from Harry Potter, who already had enough on his plate. Still, she knew no amount of time could provide adequate preparation for the moment she read it and it became fact, solid and cold as stone. Turning the envelope restlessly in her hands, Hermione traced her name and address that was scrawled in Albus Dumbledore's own handwriting for the twentieth time while trying to find the courage to break the seal. Finally, she sighed with resignation and quickly cracked the wax stamp and eased the parchment into her hands. Gingerly unfolding the note, her eyes scanned the first few lines which confirmed what she already knew: she had been named Head Girl and none other than Draco Malfoy had been chosen as Head Boy.

Sadly smiling, she read the rest of the lengthy letter in which Dumbledore apologized for the unfortunate match, assured her that Malfoy was the best possible choice, and went on to explain how he knew that she could rise to the challenge and find a way to civilly collaborate with the Slytherin during the course of the year. She already hated the idea of sharing a common room with him, not even considering the fact that she was to be sleeping within 20 yards of him.

She shook her head roughly as she set the letter aside and drew out two identical pieces of parchment. Two matching letters soon sat on her desk while she coaxed the delivery owl to her window, where she tied the two short letters to it's leg and instructed it to find Ron Weasley and Harry Potter. After watching the bird fly off into the night sky, she placed her hands on her hips and surveyed her room. Her trunk stood open at the foot of her bed, neat stacks of clothes piled in and around it, slightly messy as she had been organizing her things after recently returning from Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. She had been stuck for the majority of the summer, researching and working unofficially with the Order to track any useful information to help Harry and Ron as they traipsed over Europe nearly blindly and clearly hopelessly.

She frowned slightly as she remembered her argument with her two closest friends at the beginning of the summer, when she insisted on going searching with the two boys. She had finally listened to the Order when they said they needed her brain at the headquarters because otherwise the three of them would have been roaming aimlessly without Hermione's work at the house. So the two boys took off without her, returning home only a few times, though never for very long or with good news of any leads they were told to pursue. She was still sore for being left behind by her two friends, as was unsure how she would react to seeing them again once school began. Hermione had been stuck at Grimmauld Place with a constantly worrying Molly, restless twins, a good dose of a worn out Remus and a number of other members that drifted in and out. She spent most of her days alone, generally looking for more helpful information or reading, but sometimes she allowed herself to be coaxed out of the library by the twins and their lighthearted shenanigans. She lay down—with the two scant weeks remaining before school started again for her final year at Hogwarts, her head spun as she quickly compiled numerous more lists of things to complete now that she was positive she was head girl. Several hours later her busy mind finally slowed as she was lulled into the first deep sleep she had in several weeks by the noise of the rain falling evenly against her window.

Too soon, it seemed, she was at King's Cross station, kissing her parents good-bye before stepping composedly though the barrier that led her to the Hogwarts Express. Glancing around, she found Ron and Harry standing in a huddle with Luna, Neville, and Ginny. The five were talking animatedly and didn't notice her arrival. She hurried to the group to quickly greet everyone before she was expected in the Heads Compartment to go over her new responsibilities.

"Hey guys," she butted in, a little out of breath.

"Hermione!" Harry and Ron cried before wrapping her in a tight double bear hug.

"Oi, you two, I can't breathe!" she squeaked as she shifted awkwardly in their unusual embrace. The boys were clearly trying to compensate for their lack of communication over the summer.

"Sorry," Ron grinned sheepishly as the two released her. She didn't know if she was glad to see her two friends after watching them wasting an entire summer tracking something they knew they weren't going to find, even with her helping from the headquarters' library.

"Its ok," Hermione said with a small smile, as Ginny wrapped her in another hug, "but I don't have much time; I'm expected in the Heads compartment in—" she glanced at her watch "—three minutes." She received identical looks of sympathy from the 5 students that proved Ron and Harry had told the others who she would be working and living alongside for the next school year. "Apart from just a few letters," she continued in a tone more severe than she had intended, "I haven't heard much from you two all summer." She turned to face Harry pointedly, crossing her arms to show her slight displeasure. He blushed slightly, but didn't avert his gaze.

"You agreed it was best for you to stay home—"

"I know what I agreed to. But I need to know what happened if I'll be able to offer more help."

"Well, ok then. We had a horrible time. If it weren't for your help, we wouldn't have gotten _any_thing done at all. But it's gonna take more than a minute to catch you up," he sighed, and Hermione was ashamed to feel a small flame of pleasure light in her stomach at hearing him admit the summer wasn't as productive as he had assured her it would be.

"Alright, I expect a full report during the feast!" She smiled apologetically one last time before she ran off to find the carriage she was expected in.

When she found it, she stood outside the door for a few seconds, collecting her thoughts before stepping up and sliding the door back. Malfoy already stood inside with his back turned to her, and Professor McGonagall standing before him. She stopped talking and looked over to her when she entered, a small smile tugging at her wary face. The boy made no motion to greet her, let alone any movement to acknowledge her arrival.

"Ah, Hermione. Thank you for making it on time," McGonagall gestured for her to sit on the bench and Malfoy to sit beside her. Unwilling to make a fuss over being so near to Malfoy so soon, she politely sat down and he curtly followed suit, never once turning to look at her. The train lurched and Hermione knew they were on their way towards Hogwarts. After a extensive review of school rules, as well as an explanation of what was to be expected from the two and how they may go about their duties, the elderly witch suggested they patrol the train, then excused herself from their carriage after giving Hermione a quick apologetic look. Now alone with the boy, she sat rigidly in silence for a few moments.

"Look, I don't want this any more than you do," he began nobly, still not turning to face her, "so let's just agree to stay out of each other's way unless absolutely necessary."

"Don't be stupid, Malfoy, you know that can't happen. The point is for us to work _together_ to unify the student body and _lead by example_." She glanced over, curious as to her word's effect. He sat nine or ten inches from her, lounging back against the seat yet proud and regal as ever. His aristocratic face was turned away from her, towards the scenery flashing by the window. He seemed to have not heard her. "We are going to be working together," she continued, "living together and sharing a bathroom. Can't we at least pretend to be civil?"

"I owe no such thing to a mudblood," was his terse response. She felt heat rush to her cheeks.

"You're such a prat, Malfoy. You were picked as Head Boy. Obviously Dumbledore sees something in you, although I'm not quite sure what. If you want to play that game, go ahead, but count me out." She was proud of how mature she sounded. Truthfully, she had carefully thought of how to respond to the negativity that she expected of him. He yawned, reaching a pale hand up to cover his mouth, but he still stared pointedly out the window. She sighed and turned to face forward again.

"Go patrol the back of the train. I will start up here." He finally turned to face her, fixing her with an icy stare that clearly challenged her to defy him.

"Fine," she yielded, "but don't expect me to follow your orders all year. I'm just trying to avoid conflict on our first day as Heads." She stood and strode to the door, opened it and walked down the hallway.

An hour later, the two met somewhere in the middle of the train. She continued walking after she reached him, however, and made her way up to the front of the train.

"Oi, Granger! Where the bloody hell do you think you're going?" he drawled after her.

"Going back to our compartment so I can change into our school robes. Where do you get off bossing me around?" she shot back, stopping in her tracks and turning around.

"All that talk about working _together_ and you just walk off on your own? Sounds rather hypocritical, even for you," he laughed, taking a step forward.

"Don't even get me started on 'hypocritical', you foul little boy!" Hermione said, a little too loudly, as she too took a step forward. They were now three feet apart.

"Don't you DARE—" he began as he stepped forward, two feet now separating them.

"I'm not going to fight with you before we even reach school, Malfoy. I'm going to get changed. And you should, too," she sighed and turned back around.

"Don't think you can boss me around, you filthy girl," he spat at her retreating back. When she didn't flinch or retaliate, he realized he had to follow her because all his stuff was in that compartment. Irately pushing a second year out of his way, he stalked off after her. He returned to the door and slid it open without knocking. Hermione was already in her school robes, sitting on one of the benches with a small bright blue box in her hand with a thin, white wire extending from the box, splitting in two and ending in each of her ears. He heard faint music coming from her direction. Her head was resting back against the wall and her eyes were closed, but they snapped open when he entered the room. Walking over to his trunk, he opened it and pulled from it his school robes, her eyes trailing him warily the entire time. He looked over at her and caught her gaze. She pressed the paused button on her music player, the soft music coming to an abrupt halt, and waited for him to say something.

"I understand you wanting to watch me undress, mudblood, but I'd like some privacy," he drawled before smirking at her and pulling his shirt off. She caught a glimpse of the flat, pale stomach he flashed at her before looking away, out the window. She heard him laugh and say something, but she couldn't make out exactly what, since she had turned her music back on. He sat across from her and stretched his feet within her sight. Watching the landscapes pass, listening to her music, and feeling the calm rock of the train's movement, she eventually fell into a light slumber. Apparently Malfoy had, too, because although the slowing of the train woke her, she caught a glimpse of him sleeping before the final halting break woke him. She smiled as she saw him sleepily wipe a small trail of drool from the side of his mouth before standing up composedly, all traces of sleep quickly erased. Although Hermione reached the compartment door first, he roughly shoved her out of the way and stepped through it ahead of her.

She sighed and shook her head before following him out.


	2. Chapter 2

As Hermione and the rest of the students in the Great Hall watched the first years be sorted, Ron rested his arm on the table next to her and leaned over in her direction.

"So what did you want to know about this summer, 'Mione?" he began, somewhat awkwardly.

"Just…what were you doing all summer? Any leads? Anything that may be of any use for finding any of the Horcruxes?" she whispered back, determined not to let her resentment at her summer's situation present herself. It was over, and she had survived. She probably had been more use in the library, anyway, she told herself.

"Oh, well, we spent a lot of time in Romania. We really didn't find anything of any use," Hermione suppressed an eye roll at the presentation of the useless information she already knew, "but we did find this one area that was rumored to be haunted. We didn't get a chance to scope it out," he finished lamely. She crooked an eyebrow at this new information.

"Where exactly was it? How large of an 'area' are you talking about?" she enquired, scooting closer to Ron.

"Well, no one would, or could, tell us where exactly it was, just a general idea. No one seemed to know how big it was, either. We heard about it three days ago, and we had to return yesterday. We were hoping maybe you could find out some information? The townspeople all claimed there has been more 'hauntings' recently. Did you know that some muggles don't even believe in ghosts?"

"Yes, Ron, I grew up among them, remember? Some don't even believe in magic. Don't you pay attention in your muggle studies class?" Her voice was raising steadily—she knew the answer. At this point Harry, who had been listening, butted in.

"Anyways, you two," he said, trying to steer them back onto the right topic, "we'd like information on that castle as soon as possible, Hermione. Maybe you could check out the library sometime soon?"

"Well, I was going to head up there sometime this afternoon, anyways. The beginning of the year is always the best time because no one has removed any of the books, and no one ever goes before classes start." She ignored the annoyance that was edging into her chest, mad that Harry would give her a mission before having a proper conversation with her. _Its for the Order_, she thought, _this is a little more important than manners._ She took a swig of her pumpkin juice and made yet another a mental note, this one to look for books about places in Romania that were known to be places where dark magic bred, as well as ask for the librarian to find a muggle book on haunted locations in Romania. After she supervised the student's departure from the Great Hall, as well as making sure all students safely found their way into their dorms, she made her way over to the portrait that guarded the Head's dorm.

"_Doxycide"_ she muttered to the portrait of a large black stallion proudly keeping guard over a small, new-looking pure white foal. At once, the horse dipped it's head and stamped it's hooves before the portrait swung forward, revealing a small doorway. Once inside, Hermione had to hold her hand out and catch the wall before her knees buckled underneath her.

Never before had she been able to call such a luxurious room hers, if only for one year. Though her family wasn't as poor as the Weasleys, she was not accustomed to the glamour that coated every square inch of the room. The ceiling was high and arched, pale stone carved into grand decorations high above her humble head. The walls were a rich, dark mauve with silver decorations snaking throughout, expertly mixing her house colors with Malfoy's. Large, comfy looking sofas nearty covered in a warm golden beige fabric sat on either end of the large room, dark wooden end tables sitting proudly at each armrest. A thick, dark green rug covered the floor, and a fire cackled merrily from a large grey-stoned fireplace. Although the room was decorated in reds, greens, golds, and silvers, 'Christmas' was very far from her mind. Instead of looking seasonal, the room just appeared grand and comfortable. It wasn't the kind of luxury that was look-don't-touch, but the kind that beckoned her into it's warm embrace. Floor to ceiling bookshelves caught her eye, and she ran her hands over the old leather spines, not 

daring to breathe just yet. Closing her eyes, she inhaled the room's easy, musty scent in, a smile creeping to her lips.

"Careful, Granger, I wouldn't want you to get too much pleasure out of those books," Malfoy's cold voice cut through the room's warm air and hit her ears with resounding force. Her eyes snapped opened and located him stretched casually on one of the plush chairs. Her mood plummeted.

"I suppose you aren't impressed by any of this, then," she shot.

"Not really. It's _nearly_ as nice as my room at home. You might want to be careful opening your bedroom door, I wouldn't want to have to revive you after a fainting spell."

"I hope I never become like you, Malfoy," she said, not daring to avert her gaze first.

"What's that, Granger? Handsome? Well-liked?" Hermione scoffed, "Privileged? Envied? Powerful?—" he began to enumerate the list on his fingers.

"Don't think too highly of yourself, then, huh? That's not what I meant, not that you _are_ any of those things. I meant jaded. I hope I never become too high and mighty to notice elegance and beauty. Real beauty. The day I can look out a window here and not have my breath taken away will be the day I loathe," she said, taking a step towards the window and looking out. "How can you just shrug such fine things off? I feel sorry for you."

"SORRY?!" He exploded, pale face coloring, "You feel SORRY for me? Of all the things you've said, Granger, that has got to be the stupidest. How could some _mudblood___like you feel _sorry_ for someone like me?" He had taken several steps closer to her, and she was afraid he would grab her and throw her into the wall, but held her ground nonetheless.

"I would expect nothing less from you, Malfoy," she said resolutely. Her breathing had quickened and her chest rose and fell in the same frantic manner his did. Both students stood, wands at the ready, faces colored, staring determinedly at each other. Hermione dropped her gaze first. Her shoulders slumped and began walking towards the mahogany door with a proud lion burned into it's surface, with "Hermione" etched carefully into the wall next to it. Grasping the gold handle, she heard Malfoy move behind her.

"Not going to retort, Granger?" He laughed cruelly, under the impression that he had won. She paused, hand still on the doorknob.

"I have nothing else to say," she said simply, the tension she didn't realize she was holding melting from her shoulders.

"Ran out of words so quick?" he continued to bait her.

"Appears so," she turned to meet him face to face.

"Well, well, well…" he drawled, feeling superior.

"Not every fight is worth it," she straightened up, defiant.

"Lost your will to compete against me?" he took a step closer. She shuffled uncomfortably.

"Malfoy, we're Heads, why can't we be civil?" He laughed again. It was an unpleasant, teasing sound.

"Like I said, I don't owe such a thing to a mudblood" by now he wasn't angry, just attempting baiting her on, trying to get her to start yelling again so he would have something to do. His eyes danced maliciously in front of hers. She refused to respond in the way he wanted.

"Malfoy…" she began, then shook her head slowly and turned back to her door.

"Well just go ahead and run! You could never stand up to me." He said the last sentence in a deathly whisper. She turned around to face him. His blonde hair curtained his eyes but she could still feel their icy chill leaking into her chest, sending an unpleasant shiver up her spine; she could feel the wrath rolling off him in waves.

"I will not fight with you. Not anymore. Its our first day, for Merlin's sake." She closed the door against his enraged figure and surveyed her room. It was decorated in the same manner as the common room, but without the silver or green. A large four poster bed stood against one of the walls, lavish gold 

coating the mattress and a thick maroon dripped over the pillows. Her bed looked good enough to eat. Setting her wand on her bed table, she laid down on her bed to calm her nerves and think.

Several hours later, she shut Advanced Potions and Their Properties with a snap and rolled over onto her back, pausing a minute before heading off to the library. Aside from their chat during dinner, her two friends hadn't sought her out to talk to her. She knew it would have been hard for them to find her even if they had wanted because she had been cooped up in her room for the majority of the afternoon and all of the evening, but she still felt dismayed. Resolving to talk to them the next day, she made her way out of her room and into the common room. At first taken aback by the lack of Malfoy's presence, she realized he must be in his room or with his cronies. It was, after all, quarter to ten at night.

Once she reached the familiar doors of the library, she stepped inside and welcomed the accepting atmosphere of her favorite hideaway. She strode through the deserted room over to where she knew she could find a book regarding Romania, and began to scour the shelves for any helpful books. Soon after she located Romania's Famous Haunts, she heard shuffling from the corner of the library she had just been about to sit in to browse it for helpful information. Carefully, she slid the book off the shelf and silently made her way over to the end of the row of shelves. Peeking cautiously around the corner, she saw an empty green faded couch pushed against the wall in the corner. She crept along the wall until the sofa against the other wall became visible, and she gasped loudly, forgetting her stealthy façade, when she saw two students defiling her favorite studying place.

A boy's thin fingers were twisted through a girl's long, straight, dark hair as she straddled the blonde's lap, their faces connected at the mouth. At Hermione's sudden noise, the girl pulled herself away from the boy and turned around to look for the source of the intrusion; the boy lowered his lips to her neck.

"Oh!" the girl squeaked in surprise when she saw the Head Girl standing ten feet from them. The boy glanced up, and an equally shocked expression crossed over his face. Malfoy, however, had much practice at mastering his expression, and quickly set his features in a smug look. Hermione wondered whether she had indeed seen the shock on his face, or whether it had just been a passing shadow.

"Get off me," Draco said to the girl, roughly removing her hands from around his neck.

"But, Draco—" she whined, turning back to face him, whispering something in his ear before giggling moronically and biting her finger in what she supposed was a seductive manner.

"I said, get _off_," he said, more forcefully, clearly unimpressed with the words she so desperately hissed in his ear. He seized her around the waist, but she climbed inelegantly off his lap before he could push her to the ground. She gave him a pleading look before she saw his face set angrily on Hermione's and hastily scampered off, pulling her shirt down and avoiding Hermione's gaze.

"I should have expected you'd be here, even though its before classes start. Can't keep yourself from your only friends, can you, Granger?" he drawled lazily, undoubtedly impressed with himself.

"And you're the last person I'd expect to see here," she narrowed her eyes at him appraisingly.

"How do you think I get such high marks? I do spend _some_ time here."

"Doesn't look like you were getting much work done there," Hermione replied smartly.

"Classes haven't started yet. What, may I ask, are you doing here?" His eyes were laughing, noticeably amused for catching her in what he saw as an embarrassing situation.

"There's other work besides classwork to be done, Malfoy," she explained in a bored tone. Malfoy was studying his perfectly manicured cuticles with disinterest.

"That was very rude of you to interrupt us," he said after a quiet moment, sneering up at her.

"It's the library. Its open to all students. You have a _room_, Malfoy. Some of us don't want to see such a disgusting display," she rolled her eyes and spoke as if explaining something to a very simple child.

"Well, if you weren't so prude it wouldn't be such a problem, now would it," he shot, still grinning at her in that condescending manner.

"Excuse me, but I don't think you should go around making assumptions like that when you don't know what you're talking about, Malfoy," she said through clenched teeth, probably more forcibly than she had intended. She was very aware of her goody-goody reputation, and although she wasn't ashamed of it, people's conjectures as to her life's activities did cause her vexation sometimes. He noticed he had touched a nerve, although she was trying hard to hide it. He laughed softly, teasingly. The sound sickened her.

"How many boys _have_ you snogged, Granger? Any at all?" his eyes twinkled maliciously.

"Not that you would believe me. But, three." She had not been lying, but her hypothesis had been correct. He cackled in disbelief. Putting his hand on his chest and throwing his head back, he clearly had not thought she was telling the truth. Her eyes flashed dangerously.

"That's good, Granger" he chuckled, wiping his eyes theatrically. Draco obliviously considered himself the most talented player on the stage. "How do you expect me to believe that?"

"Well, that doesn't matter, now does it?" she crossed her arms across her chest, deeply displeased.

"Why do you feel the need to lie to me? Are you trying to impress me?"

"Like I'd want to impress _you_, Malfoy."

"Now, Now. I can tell you're mad I don't believe you," he said in a condescendingly soothing voice.

"I am not. Don't be such a self satisfied prat." He chuckled again, delighting in her anger.

"There's no way for you to proove yourself, you're too much of a coward" he teased, silver eyes shining cruelly. Her eyebrows shot up.

Had Draco spent a week—instead of a day—living with Hermione, he probably would not have made that comment. He had not yet learned that she could not help herself but accept challenges, that she, above all else, hated being humiliated. Competitive to a fault, she could not just allow someone else to win. It was not in her DNA. While this came in very handy in the war against the Dark Lord, Malfoy had yet to learn this fact about her, unfortunately.

She stood there for a few seconds, a silent war taking place behind her chocolate eyes. At her silence, Malfoy suddenly grew afraid that she would accept his joke of a proposal, yet he could not back out now. He would always protect his image, no matter what. The Slytherin Prince never withdrew anything he said, and could not be frightened by any situation. But now, he was frightened.

"You're funny, Malfoy," she attempted a strained laugh, trying to throw the whole thing off as a joke. But Malfoy realized he couldn't withdraw his statement while keeping his pride intact.

"It's not a joke, Granger. I _know_ you won't do it," he challenged, on edge as well.

Finally deciding to bravely swallow the bile rising in her throat, she closed the distance between her and him in three steps and stood over him for a second before sitting down on his right and swinging her legs daintily across her lap in a manner she hoped would appeared to him as confident and nonchalant. As if she did it every day of her life. The two sat, frozen for several moments with both of their faces neatly arranged to not betray the fearful anxiety they both felt.

Here Draco was, stuck in an uncomfortable situation with no way out. A mudblood had her legs draped so annoyingly, so casually across his lap, waiting for him to do something. He had never expected to find himself in such a mortifying position. Maybe he _had_ taken the taunting thing too far, but he didn't think Granger would actually take him up on his offer. He assumed she would burn scarlet and scamper off. Yet here she was, chewing her lip anxiously and staring at him with wide eyes. _She's scared_, he noticed smugly. Yet he couldn't figure out where to put his hands, so they remained lamely at his sides.

Hermione didn't know how she got herself into the position. She knew she couldn't resist a challenge, but this had indeed gone too far. She would rather battle Voldemort again than face this boy's touch, his lips. Her insides were quivering with fear, her body paralyzed, and she found herself glad that his hands remained on the cushions next to him because if he touched her, he'd realize how tense she was. Its not like she had never kissed a boy. She had indeed kissed three. Why was this one so difficult? _Because he's a dark wizard. He's your enemy. He stands for everything you want to purge from this world. He hates you because your parents aren't like him, and you hate him because he is just like his parents,_ a little voice in her head argued. She bit her lip. She scoured her mind for ways to escape with her dignity intact, yet her consideration yielded nothing. She finally seemed to realize how intimate their situation was, and her eyes grew wide with fear. She did not want his lips on hers.

_Maybe I should just get it over with. Quick. Just to be able to get out of here,_ they thought in tandem. Finally, he leaned down over her, pressing his body against hers, both internally recoiling from the contact. His face was three inches from hers. Both were breathing shallowly, eyes locked, daring the other to back out. One heartbeat passed between their chests. He raised his hand and placed it on her hip. Her skin burned with angry outrage. TwoThree heartbeats raced back and forth. A curtain of hair fell from behind his ear. FourFive. He reached up with his other hand and brushed a piece of hair away from her mouth. It fell back into place. SixSevenEight. He leaned an inch closer, and she almost gagged upon feeling his warm breath on her face. NineTenEleven. Neither moved. TwelveThirteenFourteen. Both moved at the same time. She boldly reached a hand up and tucked it behind his neck, pulling him closer just as he began to shift on his own accord. Closing their eyes, their lips made the contact that their eyes could no longer share.

She couldn't breathe. His chest was on hers, their whole bodies, save for legs, were pressed against each other and her skin crawled against his touch. He had gone past merely touching her. Malfoy's lips were on hers. When he actually began to kiss her, she forced herself to follow suit, repeating practiced patterns as she forced herself to stop thinking.

He was revolted. Before, the thought of brushing against her had made him physically sick, and now she was underneath him, in a position so many girls had been in the past. His skin was ice where it touched her's; he could feel her tainted blood coursing through the blood vessels just millimeters from his own. With an internal start, he realized how lame he must seem, and instantly felt the need to conquer. He felt her gasp slightly when he thrust his tongue against her lips to demand access, but she opened her mouth automatically out of habit. _Habit? _He thought, _I still can't believe she kissed any boy, not to mention THREE_. _Leave it up to the mudblood to lie to try and appear less pathetic than she really is._

She let him roughly explore her mouth for a moment before she fought back, their tongues wrestling. She twisted the hand that was resting on his neck up into his hair to give her some sense of control. He gripped onto her with the hand that he had laid on her hip, and pressed himself forward onto her. They were battling with all the force of their earlier yelling match, and neither would back down first. _I was wrong. This girl clearly has kissed a boy. Quite a few times, in fact, _he found himself thinking as she pushed into his mouth. He retaliated by using his free hand to wind into her hair and pull her head back, lowering his mouth now to her neck.

She fought, wanting power, command, but when he began to expertly lick and bite at her collarbone, she resignedly let her head fall freely back in his unforgiving grip, and contented herself with grasping his blonde hair tighter in her hand. Her other hand took up its partner's previous position on the back of his neck, and she guided him higher up her neck, where he bit with ferocity. She nearly gasped, not too sure she hated the sensation. He moved to directly beneath her ear and began to lick carefully until he was awarded with a tiny noise of approval. He snickered into her neck as he felt her grow warm with mortification. She guided him quickly back to her lips and they immediately began 

their private war again, grasping and biting and pushing for control. It was a kiss neither could get lost in; Hermione never felt the library dissolve around her and Malfoy was acutely aware of each second as it ticked slowly by. They were both conscious of the awkward angle at which Draco had bent her in order to press himself more firmly against her.

Eager to get back at Draco for eliciting such a positive sound from her mouth, she shifted her hips carefully around in his lap, seemingly to fix the awkward angle. Malfoy didn't miss this motion and he stopped moving for a moment, breath caught in his throat, concentrating on tangling his hand tighter into her hair to distract himself from the enticing movement in his lap. She took advantage of his lax guard and impishly bit his lower lip. He switched his concentration back to their duel immediately. Aware that no less than a quarter of an hour had passed since their combat began, Hermione grew restless for a way out. Finally deciding on the best possible choice, she smiled to herself as she let Malfoy press his torso into hers again, but this time she fought back with the most powerful weapon she posessed.

She arched her body up into his and tilted her head back while directing Malfoy's face to her neck. Letting out a soft, throaty moan into his nearly painful embrace, her skin fought back to stay away from any unnecessary touch. He drew back quickly, surprise quickly shifting through his eyes before he set his face into a arrogant expression, both opening their eyes for the first time. She smiled devilishly at him and unraveled her hand from his blonde hair before placing her hand on his lean chest and roughly pushing him back into the sofa. She climbed neatly off his lap and looked back down at him in time to see his face when he realized he hadn't honestly earned such a reaction from the girl, and that it was just her ploy to get him off her. Chasing the warm blush from his cheeks, he stood up and closed the distance between them. She realized how suddenly four inches seemed so far when, earlier in the day, she would have had the intense urge to take four steps back.

"Really, I don't see what the girls are so excited about," taunted Hermione mercilessly, trying to keep all traces that might indicate she was lying from her face.

"Really, I don't see how you could have possibly kissed three boys like you said you have," he shamelessly lied through gritted teeth.

"I'm just saying I wasn't astounded," she shrugged her shoulders and looked off, apparently bored.

"I'm just saying—wait, you think I was trying to _impress_ you?" He seethed, reaching his hand up to her face and forcing her to look at him. Her startled eyes grew wide, but she recovered quickly.

"Funny, isn't that what I said earlier?" she said, eyes twinkling spitefully. He growled and dropped his hand as if her face was burning hot.

"I have nothing to prove to you," he snarled.

"I didn't say you did. I just said I don't understand the entire girl population at this school," she loved getting the best of him, "you're just…rough," she finished, running her fingers over the back of her neck where his had been a minute prior. He looked to the other end of the row of shelves, unable to meet her gaze. He prided himself on all his physical talents where girls were concerned, and having none other than Hermione Granger insult him was intolerable. His skin was still frigid from where it had come into contact with Granger, and he rubbed his arm absentmindedly. When he turned and started walking off with his warm green bed in mind, Hermione calling out his last name made him stop, but not turn around.

"Don't be stupid. We both have to back to the dorm. We might as well go together." He rolled his eyes at the empty space in front of him, but made no move to either turn around or continue. She walked up next to him, and they began to walk off towards their dorm together. "So, you know my number, how many girls have you kissed? Just so I know how many girls I kissed just now," she added, carefully watching the floor tiles pass beneath their hurrying feet. He smirked at the insinuation.

"I still find it very hard to believe your number," he was pleasantly greeted with her making an indignant noise before she could stop herself, "but I haven't kept track. Its not like I have a bloody _list_."

"So…too many to count?" she picked her words with awareness, suddenly feeling the urge to brush her teeth for about an hour.

"You expected a different answer? I'm sorry, I didn't realize we were pouring out our life's stories here," he drawled lazily, sliding his feet carelessly along the floor. Hermione recognized with propper embarrassment that she had left the library without her textbook. Feeling it would be pointless to go back now, she continued to walk with Malfoy in silence until they reached the painting of the two horses. She followed him through the portal and they parted without any parting words. Once in her room, she pulled out her muggle PJs, a white tank top and a soft pair of shorts printed with purple cartoon elephants. Grabbing her toothbrush, face wash, and hair brush, she changed into her PJs, leaving her shirt, skirt, robe and bra in a neat pile in her trunk. She pushed open the door that led to the bathroom and the elegance of the white terrazzo bathroom with dazzling silver fixtures caused her breath to catch in her throat.

The room was large and rectangular, save for the one wall that bowed out to complete the edge of one of the castle's many towers. A sink and toilet sat on her side of the bathroom, and a matching set stood on Darco's side. A large, circular bathtub sank into the floor against the curved wall, an opaque white curtain hung around on a shining circular golden rod was pushed aside to reveal a large and frosted pane of glass that overlooked the grounds, still the shower had a sense of privacy. A showerhead perched splendidly on the wall, a number of stylish knobs in place underneath it. The window was now letting in a view of the dark, star-spotted sky.

She took a moment to gaze out the window before returning to her sink and squeezing some toothpaste onto her toothbrush. Just when she began to polish her teeth, the door on Malfoy's side of the bathroom opened and he strutted in with a small black bag. In the mirror, she noticed he was wearing deep green sleep pants and nothing else, his hair slightly tousled from changing. Her eyes skated across his lean, pale chest and paused to linger over three shimmering white, lengthy scars that trailed across it. She raised her eyes to see that he was watching her, a self-satisfied smile firmly in place on his lips. She blushed a deep crimson—caught in the act.

"The scars…?" she questioned, so quiet she thought he mightn't have heard her.

"Are none of your business," he snapped. End of story. She glared back up at him, and saw his eyes shamelessly traveling down her bare legs (she shivered and shifted her weight), and up her back to her face's reflection in the mirror. She was suddenly wishing her tank top wasn't quite so sheer as she crossed her arms over her chest. He merely smirked at her, apparently satisfied. She spat out a mouthful of toothpaste and rinsed her mouth in the sink. Straightening up to brush her hair and pull it into a loose bun, she avoided making eye contact with Draco in the mirror.

"Well, uh…night," she muttered lamely after she toweled off her face. She glanced up to look at him and caught his reflection's gaze through their mirrors.

"Night," he replied, emotionlessly. She walked back to her room and shut the bathroom door behind her. She crawled into her bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. She was still revolted that she let herself get into such an unprofessional position with her co-Head, and her skin was still burning at the thought of Malfoy touching her in such an intimate way. Determined to act as if it had never happened, she rolled over and had to endure three excruciating hours of racing thoughts until sleep finally found her.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's note: Not the most thrilling chapter, but we're getting there. I was getting frustrated in how long its taking, but I feel that this part needs to be kind of slow to establish relationships and whatnot.

**Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns the world of Harry Potter, I just play in it.**

The next morning in the Great Hall, Hermione sat with the Gryffindors, pushing scrambled eggs around on her plate.

"Do you have any new information about Romania?" Harry began, before stuffing a forkful of hash browns into his mouth and chewing contentedly.

"Uh—no, I, erm," Hermione stuttered, caught off guard, " I didn't get a chance to get to the library. Head duties and all," she quickly lied. The boy shrugged and swallowed before opening his mouth again.

"Well, its ok. Its just the sooner we get more information, the better. You know."

"Yeah, I know and I'm sorry," she apologized, mad at Harry for making her feel as if she'd done something horribly wrong.

"Well….yeah. OK, then," Harry didn't know what else to say to her.

"We're counting on you," Ron said through a mouthful of toast.

"Yes, Ron, I'm aware," she managed to grind out before excusing herself as politely as possible before nearly sprinting out of the Great Hall.

That morning, she had avoided any uncomfortable encounters with Malfoy by rising and washing early before heading off for breakfast before he had even woken up. She wasn't stupid, she knew she would be forced to talk to him or interact with him at some point—they were the Heads—but for now she wished to put off the inevitable for as long as she possibly could. Instead of returning to her dorm and running the risk of meeting with Draco before she absolutely had to, she scampered off to the library to retrieve the book she forgot the night before. As she thought of the events that led to her leaving without the book, she felt a blush creep onto her cheeks. Shaking her head, she was loathe to discover it was not an etch-a-sketch and a simple shake would not erase what was engraved in it.

Recovering the discarded book, she hurried up to Madame Prince's desk to check it out of the library.

"Miss Granger, I'm not surprised," she said in her usual emotionless tone. The blush returned to Hermione's face.

"Yes, well, you know. I have to get a jump on research if I'm going to be able to keep my marks." The humorless librarian just nodded mutely before handing her the book back, which she took gratefully. She stood at the desk for a moment, pondering her choices: she could stay at the library and sit in one of the rigid chairs and read through it in plain sight where someone may question her motives for looking through a book pertaining to Romania, or she could return to her comfortable, not to mention private, dorm where she risked seeing Draco. While the thought of seeing the boy downright appalled her, she decided it wasn't worth the risk to sit in the open in the library with such a sensitive topic manner involved. Thanking the aging librarian, she hurried out the heavy doors and off towards the Heads' room.

Two corridors over, she literally nearly ran into Harry, Ron, and Ginny as they left breakfast.

"Oh—hey," Ron stuttered, looking guilty.

"Hey guys, Gin."

"We, er, I should apologize," he continued, the other two remaining quiet after nodding her in greeting. Hermione sighed, _yes you __**should**_, she thought.

"No, it's alright. I've been really stressed with the whole coming back to school, being a Head and all, and this new stuff for the Order," she motioned to the book she had in her hand, glad to finally be able to work further on the new lead.

"Well he still shouldn't have been so _rude _to you," Ginny pipped up, shooting her brother a look that caused him to shrink back with a grimace.

"You do know we value you for more than just your information seeking skills and homework help, right?" Harry said, reciting a speech Ginny had clearly just finished giving the two of them. _If only_, she sighed.

"I know. We all have a lot on our minds these days. It isn't fair that we can't be normal students, normal _people_, but someone has to put up resistance or the whole world would fall to darkness." She sighed, looking past Harry's right shoulder.

"We're getting close though!" Ginny supplied hopefully.

"Maybe," Hermione corrected, "but I probably should be off. This book won't scour itself." She shifted on her feet, somewhat uncomfortably. It wasn't anyone's fault in particular, but the four of them didn't fit together as perfectly as they had as children. Now the trio being 17, and Ginny only one year behind, their eyes fought to cover the age and wariness they might betray. A pair of sixth year Ravenclaw boys strolled leisurely past, laughing about an encounter they had with an attractive girl that morning. Hermione narrowly suppressed the urge to stick out her foot and trip them.

"Well, ok then," Ron sighed, leaning in to hug Hermione goodbye.

"I guess we will see you later today? If not, there is always class tomorrow," Harry shrugged before Hermione planted a light kiss on his cheek.

"Yeah, I will talk to you later, guys. Bye, Gin," she said, squeezing Ron's sister before strolling past the group so she could finally look through the book that she has forgotten she was holding.

Before she gave the awaiting stallion the password, she leaned in towards the portrait and tried to listen to see if she could hear any sounds of life past the frame. Yielding nothing, she straightened up and hoped the room was deserted as she said "Doxycide" and stepped carefully through the doorway. Her eyes fell to the couch, and her stomach dropped. This morning she hadn't been so lucky—the blonde lounged lazily on the couch, a book open in his lap and his arm thrown lightly across the back of the cushions, his face hidden by a curtain of smooth hair. He gave no indication that he knew she had entered the room. Sliding carefully across the rug, she nearly made it to their kitchen area before she heard his voice rumble from behind her.

"Morning, mudblood," he drawled. She stopped, closed her eyes and took a steadying breath before turning around to face him. He still hadn't glanced up from his book.

"Yeah, whatever, Malfoy" was all she could lamely manage. He glanced up and smirked at her.

"How very eloquent." She simply scoffed as a response this time.

"So I've left you speechless, huh?" he was still leering at her in that infuriating way.

"Not quite, Malfoy."

"Six words. Very nice, Granger."

"I don't want to hear it. Twelve for you." She said rather snarkily.

"Whatever happened to you wanting to be civil and all? You seemed more than OK with it last night."

"Malfoy, lets pretend last night never happened. It was terribly unprofessional and I should never have let it happen."

"But you liked it," he accused.

"I wouldn't go so far," she shot back.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Granger. Although I'm sure the memories will help you sleep for months to come." As he said this, he ran his tongue over his lips suggestively. Hermione gagged.

"You're revolting."

"You want me."

"Not to mention full of yourself."

"You still want me."

"And delusional." With that, she spun on her heal and opened their small, stainless steel fridge and grabbed a small carton of milk before heading up to her bedroom.

"Aw, afraid to sit with me, then, Granger?" he teased from behind her. She swung around and plopped down on the sofa next to him, not wanting to seem intimidated by him. His eyes widened slightly before he recovered and returned to his book. She tugged open her carton and laid the book open in her lap to look through the table of contents for help.

After sitting in silence for about half an hour—Hermione perusing her new book and Draco reviewing techniques for Potions—Malfoy became bored with the volume in his lap and decided to antagonize the girl sitting stiffly next to him.

"…..Granger?!"

"WHAT?" she practically yelled.

"You weren't responding," he crooked an eyebrow in apparent amusement at her frustration.

"I was reading, Malfoy," he hated when she spoke to him in the tone she would speak to a slow child with.

"Yeah, clearly. What is it that you are so engrossed in?" he said, while tilting over slightly to catch a glimpse of the text.

"Its none of your business," she snapped, quickly pulling the book from his prying eyes.

"Merlin, a little testy, aren't we, Granger?"

"I don't see how any of this is your business," she retorted, somewhat childishly. He just raised his eyebrow again at her, pleased with her frustration. After five more minutes, she couldn't stand being in his presence, and stood to leave their dorm.

"Leaving so soon?" he cooed after her. She didn't bother gracing with him with a reply before exiting the room, thinking of a pleasant, quiet spot near the lake that would be perfect to sit and further examine the text. He smirked to himself, proud that he could overcome his repulsion at his own actions and keep up his precious image in light of the situation.

That Thursday night, Hermione and Draco found themselves speaking to the large, diverse group of prefects, lecturing them on their goals for the students and school for the upcoming year. Well, Hermione was lecturing, Draco was standing beside her with his arms crossed against chest, a bored look settled comfortably on his face.

"-and the curfew FOR ALL HOUSES is 11pm sharp, and we expect all of you to patrol the halls before and after that time. If you could please get a schedule of the evenings and nights you would prefer to do your rounds to either me or—well, I guess you better just give it to me—we can set up official patrol shifts and whatnot," Hermione paused for a second to consult the list of items she had wanted to cover in her meeting. _Inter-house unity._ A quick glance to Malfoy assured her that he had nothing of value he wished to share. She plowed on, eager to get through her list so she could return to the comfort of her common room to continue perusing the book she checked out from the library.

"Mark, _really_? Can't we just get through one meeting during which you spend more time paying attention to me than watching Julia?" The boy blushed a deep crimson and was suddenly the most attentive listener in the room. Snickers traveled amung the students before Hermione shot them a silencing glare and continued. "Although every year, we student leaders encourage inter-house unity, the staff and ourselves—" she motioned between Malfoy and herself "—believe that this year we should impress the idea onto our students even more so. With the upcoming battle, we must learn to get along with those around us even if they weren't sorted into the same house as us. If we're all fighting for the same thing, there is no reason we cannot all get along here." At this, Draco was rolling his eyes and shifting his weight around on his feet, clearly not in support of the message the mudblood 

was spreading. To him, kids from the other houses could not be trusted just because they all went ot the same school. Many of the students held incorrect philosophies and ignorant morals that would lead to the downfall of the wizarding population.

"_At any rate,_" she growled, frowning at Draco, "we will be holding a dance to celebrate school unity during which each student will have a black bracelet which will know which house the wearer is from, and will not allow the student to dance with anyone in the same house. It will also prevent large groups of students from the same house from forming. The teachers and ourselves hope this will encourage our message this year. The administration is also considering wiping any and all identity between the houses and the tables in the Great Hall away." She took another big breath and surveyed the group for more wandering eyes. Pleased to see that all eyes were, although not comprehendingly, towards her, she looked at the last topic on her list. _Dances and school activities_. Another glance towards Malfoy yielded no change in his behavior. She noticed the students shifting uncomfortably; it was lunchtime and they were hungry.

"This year we will have numerous dances and school actives, including weekends at Hogsmeade and Sleepovers in the Great Hall, in which you as prefects are expected to take part in the planning process. Your display of your leadership and organizational skills this year will benefit those of you looking to take Malfoy and my own spot as Head Students here at Hogwarts. Remember that the more you put into your positions here, the more you and those around you will get out of it. You were all picked for a reason; please don't disappoint those who chose you." She surveyed the crowd, now looking hopeful that the meeting was reaching it's end. Hermione sighed and gave Malfoy another sidelong glance. "Is there anything you'd like to add? I'm sure you must be winded from all that you've said today."

"No, I think you covered everything for the entire year. Merlin, I've been to shorter Quiddich matches than this," he drawled, pushing himself off the wall and carefully adjusting one of this rolled-up sleeves. The group twittered as Hermione colored, but she kept mindful control over the pitch of her voice as she steadily swung her gaze back over the prefect's heads.

"Well, if Mr. Malfoy is done being a smarty-pants, this meeting is over. Please, at some point, return to your houses and inform your students about what we went over this afternoon. Don't forget to remind them the forest is off limits, about their 11pm curfew, and, most importantly, encourage school unity. This begins within your own common rooms. Ok, ok!" she rolled her eyes as panic washed over the huddle of students, fearful that she would launch into another speech, "get off to lunch. All of you!" She waved her hands at the group, as if dismissing them, and the students quickly dispersed before she could decide she wanted to continue any one of her lengthy topics.

When the last prefect had disappeared, Hermione rounded on Draco, drawing a menacing finger up into his face. He raised his eyebrows a tad, but his face only betrayed amusement.

"If you _ever_ attempt something like that again, don't expect—"

"Like _what_, my dear?" he smirked, placing his hand on top of hers and pressing it down. It merely sprang right back into place, shaking with rage.

"You know exactly what. That Quidditch comment! I can deal with you keeping your filthy little mouth shut while we have our meetings, but I _will not_ tolerate you undercutting my authority in front of the group like that. You need to learn how to properly conduct yourself as a Head Boy, and that most certainly does not include trying to turn the prefects against the Head Girl. While you may think its _funny_, you vile cockroach, it merely reflects poorly on yourself and your position."

"Merlin, Granger, did you recently get a stick shoved up your ass or has then been an ongoing problem for you?" he scoffed, folding his robe carefully before draping it over his arm.

"And have you been an insufferable git your entire life, or is this just a new development?"

"Tsk tsk, Granger, that's not how a Head Girl conducts herself! Think about the honor of the position! You wouldn't want to reflect poorly on this school, would you?" He chucked as she lowered her finger and spun on her heel, removing herself from the situation.

"Why must I always be the bigger person here? Why am I always the one walking away, Malfoy?" she called out as she reached the door and turned back towards him. Her stomach growled, reminding her that lunch was nearly over. A horrible, malicious noise burst from Malfoy's mouth, and Hermione realized that he must have thought he was laughing and wrinkled her nose at him.

"There is no situation ever in which you could consider yourself the 'bigger person,' you know that, right?" he gasped between peals of 'laughter.' He exaggeratedly wiped tears from his eyes and took a deep breath to settle himself back down. Hermione merely rolled her eyes at the actor and swept out of the room and turned towards the Heads' room, already planning her lunch menu.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: Sorry the last chapter was really slow. I just felt I couldn't force myself to rush the story along to get to the good part. This chapter gets a little more exciting. Thanks for sticking with me!

**Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns the world of Harry Potter; I just play in it.**

In Hermione's eagerness to evade Ron and Harry by avoiding the Great Hall during lunch, she didn't even pause to consider that Malfoy might also be returning to their dorm instead of joining his classmates for lunch. When the portrait door swung open and he strolled casually through, she had to hold back a moan of dismay. She had been slicing a loaf of bread in order to make toast to accompany the fried eggs she was preparing to make.

"Oh, lovely, Granger. What the bloody hell do you think you're doing here?" he sighed as he spotted her in the kitchen. He set his book bag next to the couch and sauntered over to the counter that separated the kitchen from the common room and swung himself into a seat, dropping his head into his hands.

"I'm making lunch for myself. I thought that might be easy to deduce for a clever boy such as yourself," she spoke the last few words with extra malice as she cut off her second slice. Only a noncommittal grunt could be heard from Malfoy's direction. "What are you doing up here, anyways?" she inquired with arched eyebrows.

"Avoiding Pansy," he shivered slightly at the pronunciation of her name. Her eyes widened, surprised by his honesty.

"Do you want one slice of toast, or two?" she asked, peering over at him. At this, he raised his head from his hands, his turn to be surprised. Then he narrowed his eyes at her.

"What, you expect me to trust you to not poison my food? I'd rather have my food prepared by a house elf than a mudblood like yourself."

"There aren't any house elves here. It's either you eat my food or go without. Your choice." Her hands were on his hips now, knife glinting by her side. He considered her a moment, and sighed before dropping his head back into the cradle of his hands.

"Two," she heard him mumble. She brought the knife from her side and cleanly cut two more pieces of bread before carefully arranging them so they all fit in the countertop toaster oven. Then she went to the fridge to retrieve the carton of eggs. Placing a pan on the lit stove, she glanced over at the still form of Draco before walking over and poking him in the ribs. His head bolted up again.

"Oy, what was that for? Don't touch me," he spat. She rolled her eyes at him.

"How many eggs?"

"Oh. Two. But I was serious about the touching thing."

"What, worried you can't control yourself around me?" Hermione mimicked his annoyingly flirtatious tone of that morning. He gagged in response and she returned to the pan, lightly coating it in butter before dropping two eggs in. He was watching her carefully to make sure she wasn't adding any extra ingredients to his food. She simply let out a huff of breath and poked at the edge of the eggs to be sure they weren't sticking to the pan.

"Why do you cook like that?" He questioned, watching her bustle around the kitchen.

"Like what, Malfoy?" she responded, eyes narrowed in suspicion. They seemed to be stuck that way when she was around him.

"The _muggle_ way." He spat out 'muggle' as if it were a word dirtier than 'mudblood.' She narrowly resisted the urge to throw the spatula at him.

"Because, _darling_, that's how my mother cooks," pronouncing 'darling' the same as he did 'muggle.'

"Why do you hold onto your muggle ways, Granger, don't you know you're a wizard and don't have to do things like an ordinary house elf?" Hermione caught the scorn in his voice, and responded angrily.

"Just because you have power doesn't mean you can _abuse _it—"

"How is cooking an egg with magic _abusing_ your powers?" his voice was rising. He couldn't fathom how her mind could actually work the way hers did.

"—and cooking is _artful_, something only people with actual _skill_ and _talent_ can do well! Just because you have magic doesn't mean you should use it for every menial task that might require an ounce of effort!" Her voice, too, was increasing in volume.

"_How_ can something like that—"

"DO YOU WANT YOUR BLOODY LUNCH OR NOT, MALFOY?!" she shrieked at him, wielding her spatula above her head in a frightening manner.

"Have the eggs cooked long eno—" he was interrupted by Hermione violently grabbing her wand and using it to open the toaster oven then turn towards the cabinets and two plates flung out at fatal speed before crashing into the counter. The butter exploded out of the fridge, plastered itself over the toast, which slammed into one of the plates and threw crumbs everywhere before the eggs shot out of the pan and landed with a _splat_ next to the beaten toast. The plate skidded dangerously across the counter before stopping abruptly before a slightly taken aback Draco Malfoy. He merely blinked down at his crumbly toast and runny eggs which had indeed been removed from the pan too soon.

"Uh, I don't have…"

'WHAT, Malfoy, WHAT DON'T YOU HAVE?!" She yelled, slamming her wand onto the counter and grabbing the egg carton again, this time to make her own eggs.

"Er, I can get my own fork, thanks." He ducked quickly behind her to retrieve the utensil, and returned to the counter to eat his food.

Hermione placed both hands palm down on the counter and bowed her head, breathing slowly. A moment later, she picked her head back up and gingerly grabbed the eggs from their resting places before cracking them delicately into the pan. Malfoy gaped at her quick change in attitude. He could still feel the heat coursing through his body as he shoved the underdone eggs into his mouth grumpily. She quickly finished her meal and sat down next to him, cheerfully tucking into her perfectly cooked lunch as he was just finishing the last bite of his battered toast. He slid out of his chair without thanking her for the meal, and shuffled over to the couch where he pulled a book from his bag and plopped down, opening the textbook casually across his lap. They passed the rest of the afternoon angry silence.

That evening, Draco was restless. Uncharacteristically restless. He couldn't take out his agitated energy by picking a fight with the mudblood because she had fled the common room for the library about an hour earlier. With a roar of frustration, he swept through the portrait hole to search the halls for the only relief he knew he could count on.

When Hermione returned to the Heads' dorm around 9 that night, she was glad to see that the room was vacant. Not giving the slightest thought as to where Draco could have been, she entered her room and shut the door quietly behind her. She followed her bedtime routine, wishing to be swept away by sleep as soon as she could. Once she had neatly discarded her day clothes and pulled on her sleepwear, she skipped across the floor and danced into the bathroom. Quietly singing "Bad Education" by Tilly and the Wall, she turned several times in the mirror before shaking her hair into her face and raising her hands above her head. She dropped them as she hummed a musical interlude and spread toothpaste on her tooth brush, shoving it into her mouth as she continued to hum. She stopped hopping around as she became aware of a soft thumping noise coming from somewhere in the bathroom.

She spat out a mouthful of minty goop and padded across the bathroom, toothbrush wielded in her left hand, to search for the source of the noise. As she crept closer to the door that led to Malfoy's room, she realized that it was open and became worried someone who did not belong in the castle was rooting through his room. However, when she peeked through the small space between the frame and the door, she felt the urge to vomit.

Malfoy had a slim Slytherin girl trapped on top of his dresser with one hand holding her right thigh to his hip and the other clamped over her mouth, and he was rhythmically pounding her into the wall. She could still hear the girl's muffled _noises_ through Draco's hand, and he had his head thrown back, apparently in ecstasy. Hermione didn't realize it was so that he wouldn't have to look at her. Thankfully, both were fully clothed save for some garments that had been merely pushed aside. Hermione heard a strange, out of place sound and nearly cried out in dismay when she realized that the toothbrush had slipped from her hand and clattered to the floor. She could have sworn she saw him pause ever so slightly in his movements, but another glance at the two assured her that they went undisturbed.

She snatched up her toothbrush, face burning with embarrassment, and rinsed it hurriedly before abandoning it next to the sink and rushing into her room and turning on rather loud music before shimmying under the covers. Appalled at the recklessness and horrible smuttiness of Draco's actions, it took her well over an hour to calm her outraged mind sufficiently before she could find any rest. _He was soiling her livingquarters._

The next morning, when she sleepily stumbled into the common room to find some food for herself, Draco smirked up at her over his cup of tea. He was seated at the counter that separated the kitchen from the living area, so coming into close range of him was unavoidable if she wished to eat. She wasn't about to go down to the Great Hall so she could be treated like a subordinate by her two friends.

"I didn't know you were such a creep, Granger," he drawled once she had pulled the bacon out of the fridge.

"I'm sorry? I don't know what you're talking about," she kept her face hidden, afraid her cheeks would light up bright red again.

"Don't give me that, I heard you in the bathroom last night. You were watching us." His eyes glimmered nastily at her as she heated the pan on the stove and placed 6 slices of bacon in it.

"You're foul, that's what you are. Why would I want to watch _that?"_

"So you admit you saw us!" he exclaimed, victorious.

"You made sure of that, you filthy animal," she spat, not removing her eyes from the bacon in the pan.

"Oh, _'filthy animal_', I didn't realize you liked that sort of thing, mudblood."

"I don't! You're _disgusting_, Malfoy. You can't keep things like that to yourself, can you?"

"Well, unlike other boys, I don't have to. Girls throw themselves at me rather willingly, to tell you the truth."

"That's not what I mean and you know it. Why can't you keep it to yourselves? Why do you always have to broadcast it?"

"Excuse me, did I wake you up two nights ago? I don't believe so. So don't go accusing me and whomever I'm with of anything," his eyes narrowed at her as she pulled two plates from the cabinet and placed 3 strips of bacon on one, and the remaining three on the other. She put the uncooked bacon back in the fridge before cracking 4 eggs into the pan.

"Oh, well thank God for _that_" she said in a mocking tone, rolling her eyes as she pretended to be overjoyed she hadn't been ripped from sleep by Malfoy and 'whomever he was with' while stirring the egg whites and yolks together.

"You're the one who told me that I have a room for that sort of thing the first day in the library, anyways," he accused.

"But you still don't have to parade your sexual exploits around here."

"You're jealous!" He said, eyes wide with realization. She merely scoffed and repressed the vomit that bit angrily at the back of her throat. He was pretty far from the truth. She was repulsed. When she told him so, he merely shrugged and ate the two eggs she spooned onto his plate.

Honestly, Hermione spent more time thinking about the kiss than she would have liked. True, she would have considered one second too long, but the fact that she had been studying the way his hands gripped the spine of the book for the past two minutes revolted her. She had enjoyed having a body press against her own—it was a feeling she wanted again. Hating herself for feeling very much like a adolescent girl, she carefully avoided looking at his lips before returning to her own book. She decidedly hated that Malfoy, the single person she could not stand above any other student at Hogwarts, had to have been the one who turned her into the teenage girl, with _desires_ and such. Now when she walked down the hallways and saw a particularly cute brunette or a boy with beautiful blue eyes, she couldn't help but imagine pinning him to the wall. It didn't happen often, these images, but she was unnerved when it did.

When there was a knock on the door later that afternoon, both students jumped slightly in their chairs. Hermione whipped her head around towards the portrait door, and Malfoy was already padding across the carpet to find out who had disturbed them. As he swung the door open, he scoffed loudly and his shoulders sunk slightly.

"Oh, it's only _you two_." Hermione's pulse quickened. She knew exactly _which_ two he was talking about.

"Come off it, Ferret. Let us in. You know bloody well we aren't here to fawn all over _you_," she heard Harry's voice cut. Draco moved jerkily back, and when Hermione saw the outraged look on his face and Ron's own smug appearance, she guessed that the redhead had pushed him aside to stroll past. Malfoy grabbed Ron by the robes at his elbow and pulled him closer, his mouth about an inch from his ear.

"If you ever so much as _touch_ me again, Weasel, you'll be waking up in the hospital wing two weeks later with no recollection of the past three years. Do you understand me?" he threatened in a deathly whisper.

"You're a pathetic excuse for a human being, Malfoy. Could you maybe do something your own accord instead of mimicking your worthless father all the time?" Ron shot as he roughly snatched his robes away from the blonde and began walking towards Hermione. In a second, he was up against the wall with Draco's wand at his throat.

"Malfoy, stop it! Ron, why can't you just keep your mouth _closed?_" Hermione shrieked, across the room before she realized she had moved. Neither boy gave any indication they had heard her. She pressed herself between the two boys and found herself wedged between two hot, angry bodies, staring into Malfoy's malice-filled eyes. They stung at her like poison-tipped daggers.

She willed the heat from her face as she realized this is what she had been thinking about earlier—but this time, she was squished between _two_ boy's bodies. She chased all seedlings of arousal as she placed her face once again with a determined composure. She hoped neither boy had felt or seen the half second laspe in character.

"Hermione—get off!" she heard Ron mutter from behind. Putting both her hands on Draco's chest, she had to push against him with her entire body as well in order to separate him from her friend and herself. He stumbled backwards a few feet, fury etched into his face.

"What did I say about touching me, mudblood?" His voice was low and dangerous.

"I don't bloody well care what you said, you prat! Why am I the only sensi—"

"TAKE IT BACK!" Ron roared, lunging past Hermione towards Malfoy with his fists clenched.

"NO!" Hermione screamed, catching Ron by both elbows and swinging him back behind her. "By all means, DON'T retaliate!"

"But if he's going to walk around here, calling you _that_—"  
"I can deal with it _myself_, Ronald. Go wait for me in my room," but by now Ron was just as furious at Hermione for scolding him in front of his nemesis as he was at Malfoy to begin with.

"How _dare_ you—" he seethed.

"I said GO! I will be there in a minute!" she didn't avert her challenging gaze from Malfoy's form, which was shaking slightly with rage.

"I bloody well refuse to wait for you so you can _nag _me and _scold_ me more, _mother_," he spat, taking several steps back from her. "We just came for your research."

"Erm—Ron…" Harry began, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. Two seconds ago he had been prepared to level Malfoy with a punch, but Ron's and Hermione's fight seemed to drain all the anger from him.

"NO, Harry," he warned, turning to face his friend.

"You want my research? Fine! There's a stack of paper on my dressing table. Take it and get out of my room." Ron didn't need to be told twice. He crossed the room, threw open her door and retrieved the papers before stomping out of the room and letting Harry and himself out of the portrait hole. Harry wouldn't even look at her as he ducked his head to get out the door.

"Aurg!" Hermione let out a violent sigh of frustration before spinning and letting herself fall onto the couch. By this time, Malfoy has collected himself and stored away his anger, arrogant ease smoothing over his face once again.

"Kind friends you have there, mudblood," he drawled in a sickeningly sweet voice.

"They'd be _fine_ if you didn't provoke them," she countered, not once looking at him.

"Where's the fun in that? That Weasel sure has a temper, doesn't he? And how did Potty get such a glowing reputation if that's how he runs from fights?"

"I don't have to defend my friends to you, you little cockroach." He just chuckled quietly, turning from her to walk towards the door.

"I'm eating in the Hall tonight, I couldn't risk a repeat performance of this afternoon."

"Well have fun with your darling little Pansy!" Hermione called somewhat tersely at his retreating form. He returned to the room much later that night to find Hermione with a bowl of cold spaghetti cradled forgotten in her lap as she studied the text in yet another book. He shook his head sadly and continued to his bedroom, thinking only of the soft bed waiting for him.

Author's Note: Please please _please _don't forget to leave a review. I feed off them, and right now, I'm a starving little author.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's note: We're finally making our way up to the entire situation described in my summary. Be sure to read this chapter (its really fun) but everything will begin next chapter! Thanks to the readers who have made it this far and I hope you will continue.

**Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns the world of Harry Potter, I just play in it.**

The next day brought the first day of classes, bright an early. Hermione couldn't be bothered to notice that Draco was in every single one of her classes—because they had so much work as Heads. 'It would be easier for the two to manage all their coursework as well as other responsibilities' in the words of Dumbledore. She did, however, notice that Harry and Ron had chosen a table far away from her own in every class she had with them, which meant she was stuck with Neville most of the time. She was surprised when she looked up, halfway through Snape's first potions class, to find herself seated next to Malfoy. Noticing the shock register on her face, he smirked sideways at her, though he continued to copy the endless notes Snape magicked onto the board.

"Whats the matter, Granger, never thought you'd be lucky enough to sit next to such a handsome bloke?"

"No, it's just that I thought I had been sitting next to Neville," she spat back, never tearing her eyes away from the board. She heard him scoff next to her and felt his mood take a dip for the worse.

"How _dare_ you, mudblood. In which ways, exactly, do I remind you of that sniveling, pathetic excuse for a wizard?" He sounded like he was exerting a lot of effort to keep his voice controlled. She sighed.

"That's not what I meant, Malfoy. I just meant that I've been sitting next to him in all my classes and I figured this one wasn't any different." She felt him release some of the tension, but knew he was still mad and didn't try and pursue the topic anymore. After copying 12 boards worth of notes, Snape dismissed the class for dinner 7 minutes late. She noticed Ron and Harry exit the room as quickly as possible without a backwards glance her way. She sighed and dragged her bag towards the door.

"Gonna eat in the Hall, or are you still avoiding Pansy?" she muttered to Draco as he made for the door at the same time as her.

"I'm staying as far away from that clingy whore as possible at the moment, so I'll probably scrounge something up from the kitchens. But I have to talk with Blaise about something, first, so you get the common room to yourself for a bit. Don't go throwing any wild parties," he looked her up and down, scornfully, "oh wait, that's right—you're Granger. You don't have fun." She rolled her eyes at him before they both turned and went opposite directions.

Although it was early in the evening, only about 6 o' clock, Malfoy didn't spend long talking to his compadre. He really didn't have anything else to say, he just wanted to spend as little time with Hermione as possible. The living situation was _most_ inconvenient and he felt confined in their spacious dorm. When he returned 30 minutes after Hermione did, he found her sitting on the couch with yet another book—_Merlin, I don't think it's safe for anyone to read that much_, he thought—and an empty plate set on the table. Without glancing up from her book, she motioned with her hand to the counter. He glanced over in the direction which she had indicated, and found a plate of pork and vegetable stir fry over white rice. He was extremely taken aback that Hermione would still be making food for him after their little spat with her two 'great' friends. Thankfully grabbing the dish, he sat In the armchair across the room from her and watched the fire as he ate the meal she had undoubtedly prepared the muggle way.

"I get no thanks?" Hermione lifted her eyebrows and tilted her head towards him, but was finding it difficult to rip her eyes from the text.

"It's good, but not _that_ good, Granger," he said through a mouthful of bell pepper.

"It's still proper manners to thank someone when they go out of their way to do something for you," she replied, reprimanding him. He merely shrugged in response and continued to pick away at the meal she made.

The second day of school began as uneventful as the first had. Many of the teachers only continued their beginning of the year speeches and made them copy even more class rules and 

expectations. Hermione made it to her second class, Ancient Runes, without any major distractions. Without Harry or Ron around, the days seemed to stretch on forever.

However, since Ron, Harry, AND Neville weren't in that class, a small blonde girl from Ravenclaw tentatively took the seat next to her. The girl seemed very shy, and was extremly careful not to let her belongings protrude into Hermione's personal space, which the Gryffendor was very thankful for. Halfway through class, Hermione realized the girl wasn't shy—she was nervous. Her hands were shaking slightly and when Hermione asked her if she had caught what the teacher just said, the girl studdered a little. Hermione found this odd, so she attempted to make small talk with the girl.

"Aurg, I don't think these classes could be any longer," she groaned quietly to the girl next to her, who giggled quietly and nodded.

"I know, I can't believe we are stuck in here for 32 more minutes!"  
"Don't even remind me. If only the clocks didn't have protective charms on them to prevent students form tampering with them!"

"Oh, that's so tricky! How do you know that?" the girl inquired with large eyes.

_Hogwarts: A History_ she nearly said, but settled with "I think I heard some teachers talking about it once."

"That's no fun at all," the blonde whined.

"Well, welcome to Hogwarts—the ruler of all that is no fun!" Hermione whispered in a mock announcer voice.

"Now that's not true," Hermione's eyebrows shot up at the girl's words, "if you're sneaky you can have _lots_ of fun." The girl's eyes glimmered playfully.

"I hope you don't mean anything _against the rules_" Hermione half scolded.

"No no, not at all. It's just—" she caught a particularly fiery glance from the teacher and was forced to close her mouth for a second. When the teacher looked away again, the girl continued. "It's just that there's this party type thing. Well, not even a party!" she added quickly, hoping to not be reported by the Head Girl.

"Then what is it?" Hermione asked, head bent in closer to the girl.

"Well, it was following your _unity_ theme," she continued, hoping to appeal to the Head's adamancy to promote harmony, "so we were going to have a Ravenclaw and Gryffindor get together in the Room of Requirement tonight. At 8. You should come!"

"Actually, that sounds like a pretty good idea, er, I'm sorry—I didn't catch your name?"

"Oh. I'm Leena," the girl blushed slightly.

"Leena. Alright. And I'm—"

"I know, Hermione. You're Head Girl." It was Hermione's turn to blush.

"Er, yeah." The teacher shot the two another poisonous glare and they closed their mouths for the remaining 5 minutes of class. When the bell rang, they tucked their things into their bags and made quickly for the door. After a short and slightly uncomfortable goodbye, the girls went their separate ways for their next class.

Apparently Leena had lied, because when she reached the room of requirement, students of all four houses were milling around forming groups and sitting in circles. Spotting Ron and Harry in the largest of the three circles of students, she wandered over and plopped herself between the two boys. A little too late, she noticed Malfoy sitting across the circle, smirking at her. She smiled politely back before she became aware of an empty firewhisky bottle in the middle of the circle. A shot glass was placed in front of her and she was instructed to drink it. A little disappointed at the students for resorting to alcohol, she sighed and downed the liquid, having experienced the burn several times over the summer with Fred and George. After two more, the glass was set aside and the game began again. 

Apparently, three shots was the price of admission—in order to loosen the tension, of course. No more fire whisky was offered to anyone.

The bottle spun, landing on Luna.

"Dare," she declared dreamily, unafraid of her challenge.

"You must…" the redheaded Hufflepuff girl paused to think, "sit between Crabbe and Goyle." The girl clearly thought her dare was clever, because she was smiling malevolently as Luna drifted over and wedged herself between the two boys.

"Very well, then," she squeaked from her new spot, before sending the bottle spinning with a twitch of her wand.

Hermione watched it spin lazily. She had begun to feel slightly warm, her stomach glowing fondly with its new contents. While she knew she was nowhere near being incapacitated, she enjoyed the slight, very slight as she noted, feeling when she moved her arms. While coming to the conclusion that three shots was the perfect amount to relax a group of students without letting anyone get anywhere near drunk Luna had cleared her throat, clearly thinking. Hermione sought out the bottle in the middle, and found it pointing to Malfoy.

"You must…go sit with Ron." The blonde and redhead both paled slightly, but when Malfoy crawled over to Ron and sat next to him with a grimace as if the action had caused him actual physical pain, Luna spoke up again. "No, _with_**.** As in, in his lap." This drew great protests from both boys. The people near them in the circle began to argue—that was the dare, those were the rules, it was just a game, no one cared. Finally, Ron agreed to sit with his back against the wall and legs apart so Malfoy could recline against him. Hermione thought they looked cute, really. _They deserve each other, _a vicious voice in her head sang. She laughed when the bottle landed on none other than Pansy, and because he was bitter that Pansy had found too much enjoyment in his situation, Malfoy took to the game to another level when he forced her to kiss Neville full on the mouth. This the Slytherin girl completed, if not somewhat revolted, but her eyes glimmered when Hermione started as the bottle stopped with it's neck pointing at her.

"I dare you to," Pansy paused dramatically, enjoying the attention, "kiss Draco—"

"What!?" the two heads sputtered at once.

"—I'm NOT finished. Kiss Draco. With tongue. For four minutes. Come on, show us some of that inter-house unity you have been shoving down our throats."

The whole room stared. The innocent game of truth or dare really _had_ become "spin the bottle" and none of them were surprised to find it was two Slytherins who had accomplished this. Hermione sat in shock. Kissing him again was the LAST thing she wanted to be doing, no matter how much alcohol was in her system. Three shots had hardly given her a buzz, how was she supposed do something like _that_ in such a state. In front of so many people. The entire room had, by now, joined the game.

"Well, don't be shy," she urged.

"Hermione, just get it over with," Harry muttered from her side, clearly not in love with the idea either. She looked over to Ron, who was still acting as Malfoy's backrest. He looked utterly horrified as well.

"You heard her, Granger, get over here. Don't hold up the game for everyone else. Or are you scared?" Malfoy, although repulsed, didn't want to appear weak or afraid and by now knew how to get action out of her. She stood up carefully, crossed the circle in four large strides and purposely straddled him. Although she had meant to just sit on his thighs, she slid down to his lap because he was sitting crossed legged. She saw a flash of surprise flit behind his eyes but before he blinked it was replaced with his normally steely grey eyes. By now she was used to seeing such an occurrence, but it unnerved her nonetheless. For a few seconds they sat there, and she became aware that Ron was squirming behind them because her knees were resting on his inner thighs, though not very hard.

"Oh just get on with it!" someone called.

"I want you timing this."

"Right, Draco," Pansy ensured.

"No, I mean it. You have to tell us when time is up."

"Yes, Draco," she sighed again.

"Well, then?" the same onlooker said.

Hermione's breath was shallow. Malfoy's hands were resting somewhat awkwardly on her hips. They could not break eye contact. Both were dreading the inevitable, putting it off as long as possible. Again they had managed to find themselves in the same awkward position as before. Only seven heartbeats raced between their chests this time before, finally, he reached up and wound his hand into her hair, the other hand on the side of her face, and roughly pulled her lips to meet his. Thankful for his lead, it took her a few seconds to register the sickly familiar feeling of his lips pressing at hers.

This kiss was more forceful, obviously because he was on stage again, trying to impress the entire room. Quickly he gained access to her mouth and she felt his mission was to conquer. Realizing her hands hung lamely at her sides, she brought one up to his face, to mirror his hand on hers, and placed the other on his chest, and felt him jerk slightly under her touch. She smiled into his mouth. Though this kiss was slightly more practiced than their first, and both had the most trivial edge of alcohol, they still found themselves tense. Malfoy was the first to push this aside, in the interest of a good show. Only a minute had passed by the time he withdrew from her mouth and pulled her head back using the handful of hair he had grabbed. Now he placed his mouth again on her neck, biting and licking the spot that had previously drawn a slight noise of satisfaction, being sure to leave markings along her throat and shoulder. She was faintly aware that the angry burning sensation of her skin rebeling against Malfoy's touch was dimished, it seemed it had resigned to the fact that its persistence to keep him off wouldn't be enough to actually keep him off.

Hermione was frightened to open her eyes, self-consciously feeling Ron's eyes on her as Malfoy was attacking her neck. Horrified, she heard a small gasp escape her lips. She felt his lips curl into a sneer as a laugh ghosted over her neck. He returned to her mouth with another two minutes remaining. He removed his hands from her frame, and grabbed hers around the wrists. Carefully lifting her arms above her head, he gained complete control. Hermione was dismayed to be put at the mercy of Malfoy, and when she felt him push back on her wrists, as well as rotating his hips forward, she was mortified to find herself slowly falling backwards. Her back hit the ground softly and he crawled on top of her as smooth and lithe as a snake, biting and licking where and when he saw fit. This was one of his best theatrical productions yet, never before had he an audience of such variety and volume.

When he let her hands go in order to place one of his own on the ground next to her head and the other on her stomach, she quickly and forcefully tangled one of her own into his hair and the other on his hip, eager to gain some sort of command again. Realizing that he was stealing the show, Hermione finally decided to become a main player instead of background character and bit playfully at his lips before guiding his head over so that her lips had access to his ear. Carefully, she bit and licked at it, Malfoy clearly enjoying the sensation, as he pressed against her rather powerfully. When she began to lick, he let out the slightest whimper, sure only she herself could hear it, but she got frightened of the effect she was having and returned hastily to his lips. Both, at this point, were using more strength as Pansy called out that the pair had one minute remaining.

Shifting slightly underneath him, she knocked her foot into Ron and realized with a start what impression her and Malfoy's little show was giving him. Ron already abhorred the boy; this would only further his mistrust of the blonde. She drew back, her lips centimeters from Malfoy's, their foreheads still touching.

"Stop," she whispered. The girl next to her cleared her throat, trying to remind the two that they still had 50 seconds. He drew her back in for a second.

"I can't." Hermione was shocked by his words as he kissed her again. "Time's not up." Her heart started beating again. "I wouldn't want to have to start over." His lips pressed lightly on hers as he spoke, then kissed her again at the pause.

"We wouldn't want that," she agreed quietly in an angry tone.

"I thought kissing you once," he kissed her, "was bad enough," another kiss, "you dirty mudblood." At the feeling of the word being spoken into her lips, she colored and bit his lip hard enough to draw blood as Pansy called out "Time!"

Hermione shoved him roughly off of her and rolled onto her stomach so she could stand herself up. Once on her feet, she threw the boy one last deep scowl and strode purposefully toward the door.

Author's Note: Please please _please_ keep reviewing. So few reviews is slightly discouraging.


	6. Chapter 6

Author's note: My most sincere apologies for taking this long to update. The end of my senior year has been crazy, but I am graduating next Thursday, so hopefully I will be able to keep up with the story (for the most part). Just a warning: this story is going to be a lot longer than I originally intended, and also a lot more graphic. I'm trying to keep it as classy as I can, but what can you do with a story where the main premise is physical? Maybe I should have thought this one through... haha. Anyways, please enjoy and don't forget to review! I always get so discouraged when I don't get many reviews.

**Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns the world of Harry Potter, I just play in it.**

Later that night Hermione was staring at her reflection in the mirror, brushing her teeth harder than perhaps necessary. Her eyes burned with indignation that he had yet again gotten her into _such_ a compromising position, but this time with _such_ an audience. She moodily spat her mouthful into the sink and contemplated its gloppy, dripping form before rinsing it away with an evil smile and a stream of cold water. She was having too much fun imagining Draco's tiny face, eyes bugged and mouth open, whimpering "noooo!!" as it washed down the drain to stew rightfully with the rest of the castle's sewage to notice the door open on the opposite side of the room. Hermione scowled deeper, barely containing the urge to storm from the bathroom and slam her door shut like a first year when she finally noticed Malfoy had entered the bathroom looking far too smug for her liking. She continued to frown at his form as he paused in the doorway, seemingly contemplating something.

"Enjoy yourself tonight?" he drawled as his eyes made a quick sweep of her body.

"Shove off, Malfoy."

"You know, this is starting to become a regular thing, this 'you not being able to keep yourself off me' thing." His eyes glittered malevolently at her. She ignored him and closed her eyes, making sure she kept breathing.

That was the one thing she knew how to do: breathe. No matter what happened, she could count on her next breath. Even at the Ministry of Magic the night Sirius died, she took solace in her next breath. As long as she could do that, she would live. Time would continue to roll by, and she could wake up in the morning. Time would pass and it would feel like just one second ago she was receiving that very first letter from Hogwarts that changed her life, but each breath between then and the moment she was in marked the time that passed. Another three seconds filled and deflated her lungs before she opened her eyes again. She knew that as long as she kept breathing, she would be fine. Everything would come to pass, and she would be ok.

He looked at her, almost betraying the puzzlement that he kept hidden behind his eyes.

"You are the most self-centered, obnoxious prat I have ever come into contact with" she ground out, glaring at him through the mirror. Leaning casually against the doorframe, he merely nodded politely to her as if she had just told him his hair looked nice when it wasn't slicked back like he had it second year.

"That sure offends me, coming from a mudblood like yourself," he snickered from his spot. Her face reddened and she spun to face him before hurtling herself across the room at him. He was moving to halt her progress a half second later. She raised her wand to throat-level as she charged across the room, but he met her halfway and caught both her raised wrists easily and held them tight.

"I don't know where you get off calling me that, Malfoy," she hissed, her voice dangerously low. "Just because I wasn't born to wizards like you happened to be doesn't make me any less skilled. You know very well that I have the top marks in our grade. Are you upset because you are aren't even in the top 5 with highest marks? Oh yes, _I know_." His face lost the little color it had to begin with as his features set with rage. He spun her around while still holding her wrists, and bent her arms up behind her back. Hermione allowed herself to wince because she knew he couldn't see her face.

"Marks are nothing, Granger. They can't save you when the Dark Lord comes for you. There's no way to protect yourself from Him. That's your problem, Granger. You support the good guys just because they seem to have a 'noble' cause. You _Gryffindors._ Don't you realize all the nobility in the world won't be able to save you? My Lord can crush you and your followers with a flick of the wand. You don't stand a chance." Hermione fought against his grip, the feeling of his hot, angry breath over her shoulder was not helping to suppress the rage she felt rising from the pit of her stomach. She wrenched one arm free and swiveled around while snatching her other hand away. With a sharp shove to the chest, Malfoy stumbled backwards a few steps before regaining his footing.

"I agree my marks won't save me. Everything I have learned in order to achieve those marks, however, will. And we will succeed. Voldemort _will_ perish." She suppressed the urge to chortle when 

she saw Draco flinch at the use of his lord's name. "We have something to fight for. Bravery, honesty, good, loyalty, _free will_. I, unlike you, can do as I please. You will always be serving a higher power, taking orders and completing tasks set for you by others. You won't ever be your own master. You have been someone else's possession, someone else's _play thing_ since you drew your first breath. How anyone as intelligent as you could go along with all that hogwash is beyond me, but they've got you brainwashed. Oh, how I pity you." Her voice had been rising steadily until she was screaming the last few words, too blinded by her own anger to see him quaking with wrath across from her. She picked up a small, mostly empty bottle of hand cream and threw it at the wall two feet to the left of Malfoy and was rewarded with the satisfying sound of shattering glass.

He took one step towards her and shoved her hard, and she gasped when her back collided roughly with the wall behind her. He stalked up to her and trapped her against the wall, one hand next to each of her shoulders. His breathing was very strained and she could tell he was having a hard time controlling his temper, his steely eyes burning through her as he struggled to contain his voice. When he finally spoke, his mouth was next to her ear and he was speaking in a voice quieter than a whisper. Were she thinking straight, she might have been slightly intimidated.

"I am no one's _play thing_. I simply follow orders given to me out of respect. I fight for pride, tradition, class, honor and to save a population that is quickly decaying and becoming deluded by mudbloods like you." She laughed, but quickly regretted it as his hand shot into her hair and twisted a chunk around his hand. Her eyes watered as several hairs were pulled from her scalp. Instead she clenched her teeth and prepared a response.

"Please, Malfoy. You take orders because you're afraid _not _to. There is no honor in killing witches and wizards who have just as much right as you to be involved in the wizarding community." She was still yelling. Somehow, she couldn't manage to control the volume of her voice. Malfoy quickly ducked away because he mouth had been right at his ear, but he still held her pinned painfully against the uncomfortable stone wall. "You're going to end up a mindless puppet like your father," she finished, waiting for his explosive reaction. She was well rewarded when he began shouting in her face, his eyes now wild with more emotion she had ever seen him register.

"My father?! My FATHER?! What gives you the right to go around talking about my father?! You know nothing, you stupid mudblood! I have a mind of my own, I do not do only as my father says!" he roared with apparent indignation. Hermione had finally found the switch that set him off. Draco nearly resented his father. When he was little, all he wanted to do was please him. Anything that the young boy tried, however, failed to impress the man, and he was punished more times than he cared to remember. What was worse was that he knew Granger was right. His father only raised him to serve the Dark Lord, to follow in his footsteps and become another one of the high-ranking slaves that receive more important missions and therefore harder punishment if not completed. Draco still had faith in his side, his morals, his teachings. He just maybe wasn't so sure about handing his service over to someone else such as his father or his Lord.

Their anger seemed to be pulsating through the room and the air around them seemed to vibrate with it. Both breathing hard from the effort to keep from fatally injuring the other, their eyes locked and Malfoy's fingers curled tightly around Hermione's upper arms. The seconds drew out and neither moved, but their breathing slowed a little. Seemingly at the same time, both realized the proximity of their bodies, and she fought the urge to shift in his grip. Draco hadn't intended to get in such a large argument. He had only wanted to get back to his dorm room so he could relax after the party. It shouldn't have been so easy for Granger to provoke him. He would never admit that it was because he was still worked up from their kiss earlier that evening. After that damn mudblood had left, the group had wisely picked a new game and Draco was at a loss to find a girl before he returned to the dorm. Still reverberating with rage, annoyance, and excitement, he bent his head down next to her ear again. Neither moved.

"Why aren't you trying to get away?" he breathed, pressing his body slightly further into hers. He didn't notice he had until her breath hitched in his ear, however. Damn hormones. Why did Hermione have to be a girl? One that he decidedly liked battling—with verbal fights or physical _encounters_. He cursed his hormones once again as her hands clutched at his arms just as tight as he held hers.

"I can't get away, Malfoy. You have me trapped." They were staring at each other.

"You could escape if you _wanted_ to," he said in a near purr. All that anger and heat wasn't helping either of them. He could tell she was fighting the same urges by the way she was shifting ever so slightly in his grasp.

"Of course I want to get away. Don't be ridiculous!" her voice quivered hysterically, "just….let go of me, Malfoy." She was fighting to keep composure. Malfoy, however, had lost his. Suddenly he thought of something, and he acted quickly by dipping his head down into her neck, keeping her pinned to the wall.

"I propose an arrangement," he breathed into her neck. She squinted at him, trying to shimmy from his half-embrace.

"What are you talking about, Malfoy? And I thought you didn't want me _touching_ you with my filthy _muggle_ hands." She was worried. If his coposure had been compromised, she'd have to fight for hers twice as hard, and she wasn't sure she could do that.

"I propose that we, ah, relieve each other's stress," he murmured before giving in, although he knew he would probably hate himself for it later, and nipped at the spot where her neck met her shoulders. She shrugged him off to the best of her abilities. Her neck seemed to mourn the decision.

"Why would I agree to such a thing?" She spat, turning to face him and trying to side-step him to get away. He was too quick—he put his hands on her hips and lifted her up, setting her on her own counter and trapping her by standing between her legs. His hands were again resting on either side of her.

"Because I'm irresistible," he drawled, his face a scant three inches from hers. The two of them were still breathing hard, impossibly worked up from the evening at the party and the yelling match that had switched to seduction in mere seconds. The familiar feeling of his breath on her face made her squirm. She took another breath. _Now is not the time to go and act like a teenage girl_, she scolded herself, willing herself to try and get away again. Draco's suggestion, had it been from any other decent looking, _good_ wizard, might have been more acceptable. That is, for her mind. Her body already appeared to be giving its assent. But she tried to continue refusing to acknowledge him.

"Well, I'm resisting," she said with as much finality as she could muster. His mouth caught her under the ear. She _was _resisting. Well, she was _trying_.

"So they all say," he hissed from somewhere just below her left ear. If she was going to make it out of the bathroom without doing anything stupid, he would certainly have to stop doing that.

"But I think you're a foul boy. Keep your filthy hands off me," she regained composure by pushing him away from her. _Damn, _she thought bitterly, _it's hard to dissuade a boy in need_.

"I'm not asking you to like me, mudblood." Her hand streaked up to his face, where it left a bright red mark across his left cheek. He merely chuckled softly and appeared to not even have felt it.

"Then what _are_ you asking, Malfoy?!" She was getting frustrated by now, because his need was wearing off on her and she knew she had to get out of there fast. _Damn hormones and their damn debilitating effects_.

"I'm asking a friends with benefits deal—" he placed his hand rather high on her thigh.

"But we aren't friends!" She thought fondly of the door, or maybe an icy shower. For the two of them. No! For just her—let him wait for his.

"Well, what about enemies with benefits? Rivals with benefits? Call it what you want, I want benefits."

"There is absolutely no logic in that, Malfoy," she sighed, exasperated.

"Exactly, it's just fun. And it's here, and it's convenient. Don't pretend you didn't enjoy kissing me in the library. And the Room of Requirement just a bit ago."

"I didn't. You revolt me!" Now frantically lying, she was desperate to escape because, contrary to what she saying, her mind had started to believe him. It sounded so good right about now. Especially with all the tension she had built trying to research this damned Romania for her two friends who were now furious with her. _Keep breathing and you can talk to them later. Settle things out. Make everything right._ But right now, nothing was right. Draco had her pinned on her own bathroom counter and she was seconds from accepting his request.

"Nothing you do can make me like you," she assured him.

"I'm not asking you to like me, mudblood," he said for the second time in two minutes. His lips were at her neck again, and she felt her composure dissolve as a small moan escaped her before she could stop it. He placed his hand on her opposite hip and licked where he had just bit rather hard, and her head fell back a bit. She deserved this. She didn't deserve _him_, she deserved much better than him, but he was here now, and she was tingly now, and his lips were _at her neck_. She couldn't say no anymore. She wrapped her hand around the back of his neck and leaned back on her other arm. He lifted his mouth for a moment and looked haughtily at her with a victorious look filled with desire. You just can't dissuade a boy in need.

"I take that as an acceptance," he smirked conceitedly before attacking her mouth. This kiss wasn't an ounce different from the others; the two felt the need to compete, to conquer, to beat the other into submission. They weren't tender, soft, or passionate, but needy instead. His hand slid from her hip to the hem of her skirt, and he paused there. She began to grow impatient with him; all this build-up, and he was hesitating _there?!_ She growled in frustration and slid herself forward a little on the counter, causing his hand to slide just under her skirt. He broke from her mouth and look at her wide-eyed.

"Not the innocent little Gryffindor, are you?" he sneered, sliding his hand to her outer thigh and up her skirt, stroking the outside of her leg.

"You don't know the half of it," she snarled before she could catch herself. He looked at her, clearly amused. Her eyes grew wide. "No, I mean—not _that_." She quickly corrected. She had, for the lack of a better word, _changed_ somewhat over the summer, but not that much. But right then she was too turned on to elaborate, and he was happy to continue. As his hand slipped to her inner thigh, she leaned forward and sucked at his neck as his fingers danced over the fabric of her knickers. She trembled in delight, renewing her efforts at his neck. The work his fingers were doing let Hermione know that Draco was rather well practiced. When he was finally awarded with a final gasping moan, she scooted happily back against the mirror, eyes lidded and heavily sedated. He gave her a second to bask in the feeling before raking his fingernails down her leg to remind her that their agreement had been two-way.

She was quickly brought to attention, and hopped off the counter to stand before him, her cheeks still glowing from her arousal. When she leaned forward and dragged her fingernails down his biceps, in much the same manner as he had just done to her legs, while biting his ear with a little too much force, he hissed and pressed forward into her to remind her of his ultimate need. Her hands traced down his torso and undid his belt and lowered his trousers without removing her mouth from his ear. He briefly wondered just why she knew what she was doing so well. Then he smirked at the thought of Ron's face if he ever found out what his precious little mudblood was doing to his own body at the moment.

To Hermione, Draco had ceased being Malfoy and had merely become a delicious, pale, lithe body the moment his hand slid up her thigh. Hoping to seem a little more knowledgeable than she really was—she had only done this a few times—she carefully freed him of his boxers and brought him 

to his own growling peak within minutes while keeping her mouth on his ears, neck, mouth, and collarbone. With a final harsh kiss on the mouth, she turned to brush her teeth again as he cast a quick cleaning charm and proceeded to his side of the bathroom to get himself ready for bed, already feeling rather sleepy.

"G'night, Malfoy," she murmured, feeling slightly awkward. His reflection nodded at her's through their mirrors.

"Granger," he said as he tipped his head. She disappeared into her room and was in bed, fast asleep, in minutes.


	7. Chapter 7

Author's note: I am SO SORRY it has taken this long to update. I switched computers and couldn't find the files for the longest time, and by then I had run out of steam on this. Hopefully it won't happen again. I know how waiting for updates can be.

**Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns the world of Harry Potter, I just play in it.**

The next morning when Hermione woke up, she couldn't decide whether or not she should have been mortified. On the one hand, the pleasure brought to her by Malfoy's hands last night had been so much more than anything she had experienced before in her life. The few clumsy attempts she had encountered previously had been good in their own respect, but there was just no denying the blond boy's talent. She could even admit to enjoying the kisses--they were hot and angry and unrelenting and she couldn't possibly get lost in them if she tried, but they did send fire to the very tips of her fingers and toes. On the other hand, it was Malfoy. He was horrible and insufferable and evil and the worst possible person she could imagine. He taunted First Years just for fun, cursed people who looked at him wrong, used and abused his friends, and had every goal and priority in his life mixed up and defined by his father and his "lord." It made her sick.

However, she was smart enough to know that while her mind could create an infinite list on why she should have NOT agreed to, or why she should back out of, the deal, her body would always give in to a touch like that. She _was_ only human, no matter what sort of student she was. She also had to admit that part of her was trying to get back at Harry and Ron, more Ron and less Harry though, for being insensitive gits after she had been forced out of the action and into a library for the summer. Had Ron even thanked her for the research? Maybe he had, she couldn't even remember. She could feel her heart rate increase and her blood boil with fury every time she thought about THAT situation. So, while it wasn't justified or even right, she knew she would keep her deal with Malfoy. She just had to keep it from her friends. Malfoy would have no problem keeping this quiet, she mused, because he would never want to let anyone know he had willingly touched--and seduced?!?!--a 'mudblood'.

She rolled over in bed, not quite ready to get up yet. Her dainty alarm clock that looked like a small figurine of a bird with a clock embedded in it's right wing told her she had two hours before her first class, but she quickly went through her morning routine and cut out ten minutes in order to award herself a little more time in bed. The extra minutes were spent somewhere in a warm, fuzzy world between sleeping and wakefulness in which her blankets were strong arms wrapped around her, the ticking of her clock blurred into a whisper, low and soft in her ear, the words always just out of her grasp. When her ten minutes were up, her clock took flight and landed in her hair, its wings fluttering about her face as it cawed her back to reality. Grumbling, she slid out of bed and shuffled her feet along the thick golden rug.

Her bedroom was much larger than hers at home. It was large and rectangular--she could take 10 long strides from wall to wall the long way across and maybe 6 or 7 the short way. The door stood fixed towards the edge of one of the longer walls, its dark frame accented by the luscious maroon walls. Thin shiny gold vines glittered subtly across the wallpaper, incorporating the gold metal accents, such as a drawer pull or curtain rod, throughout the room. The rich wooden desk that sat against the wall opposite the door was placed in front of one of the three windows that faced the front lawn and great lake, giving her a spectacular view of the magnificent land that Hogwarts was fortunate enough to have been constructed on. Her queen sized bed stood against the far wall, held high enough off the ground by an ornate four poster frame that she _nearly_ had to jump up to get onto her mattress. Gold sheets were hidden by a deep red duvet cover during the day. A night stand, each with two drawers, sat on each side of her bed and a beautifully carved chest was placed at the foot of her bed. A tall wardrobe with cabinets and drawers sat diagonally in the corner right across from the door and held the majority of her clothing. Directly next to the wardrobe on the shorter wall was the door to the bathroom--a little less elegant than the door to the commons, yet dignified nonetheless. The high, arched ceiling was smooth plaster and painted a slightly richer gold than the soft carpet that stretched from wall to wall. The only feature that reminded her that she was in a castle were the large, even stones that bordered the ancient cold black metal window frames.

She thought the room was a little grand for her taste, but she was slowly getting used to it's warmth and comfort. She was happy to have a lot of free floor space because that was the one thing she wanted more of for her room at home. She supposed she could ask for a couch to be put in, too, to give her somewhere comfortable to read that wasn't in a shared space with the Head Boy.

Picking out her clothes for the day from the wardrobe, she made her way into the bathroom and quickly locked both hers and Malfoy's door before stripping and showering. She allowed herself the luxury of a 20 minute shower because she knew the Slytherin couldn't possibly have been awake yet, and then unlocked the doors once she had her clothes on. Five minutes later, while she was combing and drying her hair, a sleepy Malfoy stumbled into the bathroom and, startled upon seeing her already mostly ready for the day, surprised her with a greeting that was possibly more polite than he'd intended due to his mental state of half wakefulness.

"Good morning, Malfoy," she returned, glad to not have to deal with his nastiness so early in the morning. She was just screwing the lid onto her jar of lotion when she noticed his reflection in the mirror starting to remove it's clothing, with little regard for her presence. "Uhm, excuse me?" she sputtered, setting the jar on the counter a little louder than she'd meant to.

"I'm showering. If you aren't going to join me, kindly shut the door on your way out," he smirked, making up for the kind greeting. He began to pull his shorts off, his shirt already in a crumpled mess on the ground. The air was still a little steamy from her own shower, but the hot water he had just turned on contributed to the heated atmosphere. Hermione caught a glimpse of more than she wanted--or less than she wanted?--and felt flame shoot into her face before she gave up on her hair and whipped it into a high pony before spinning on her heels and nearly dashing out of the bathroom, being careful to close the door slowly behind her. Damn him, she DID want to join him in the shower, but that was entirely inappropriate. Plus, she had already taken her shower. Not that that was the only reason she had decided against a shower with him. Instead, she removed all temptation by picking her book up off her desk and retreating to the common room to cook breakfast.

Cutting the mushrooms, peppers, and onions that morning had been a challenge because her hands were shaking. Maybe she _should _have taken him up on that offer for the shower. No! She was being ridiculous. He had only last, ah, _helped _her last night.

Apparently Malfoy's showers were rather short when he spent them alone because he was already joining her in the kitchen just after she had carefully diced all the mushrooms, peppers and onions. He sat down at the counter, facing her and looking over all her ingredients. He was wearing PJ pants but no shirt, the water dripping from his blonde hair to his pale shoulders, then tracing delicious patterns down his torso.

"Mushrooms in an omelette? Gross," he stuck his tongue out and scrunched up his nose after she dumped the veggies in the pan with a little bit of butter.

"Scramble," she corrected, "and it will be delicious. You like them anyways, so have an open mind about it. I know that might be difficult for you," she scowled, not appreciating the criticism. She WAS making him breakfast, after all.

"We'll see," he ignored the jibe. He didn't want to miss out on food this morning. "How long do those need to be in there for?" He asked, raising his eyes out of the pan to her chest, which was dangling enticingly over the pan, her royal blue blouse mercifully unbuttoned and her white tank top not quite covering her--especially at that angle. Her chocolate eyes flicked up and caught him. His eyes darted up to hers, a smirk drawn across his thin lips. She felt like she hadn't placed just her hand but her whole body accidentally on the burner with the breakfast. She jerked her hand off the stove and stuck two of her burnt fingers in her mouth. How could he turn her on with a look like that? She recalled her ten minute fantasy with the identity-less lover and cursed her subconscious for dooming her resolve. _Stay focused, you're making breakfast._

"A few minutes, but _honestly _Malfoy, we just woke up!" She sighed, exasperated with him and her body's reactions.

"Not one for morning sex?" He slipped sideways off the stool and was behind her in a second, arms wrapped around her waist and his body pressed against hers, "it'll make your classes much easier to deal with." He kissed her neck--why did she have to put her hair up?--and pulled her hips back into him.

"Sex?!" She jumped a little, worried. Thankfully she managed to keep a grip on her turner. She distracted herself by using it to poke around the contents of the pan. She felt him laugh against her neck.

"Well, not sex. Don't worry, Granger, I know you're a goody little _virgin--" _he spat the word as if it were dirty "--and I wouldn't want to degrade myself by taking that from you. Just a little fun is all." He continued his work against her neck and his hand slid from her waist to the snap of her pants, slowly undoing it before she could protest.

"The...the food. It will burn," she stuttered, but she felt her head roll back onto his shoulder. He didn't laugh this time but only smiled.

"Forget the food. Don't worry, this one is on me. You can owe me later," he drawled dangerously close to her ear, eager to get one up on the Head Girl. One of his hands tugged the waist of her jeans slightly down so he could ever so teasingly run his fingers across her cotton panties, while the other ventured up, under her tank top, to knead her left breast.

"Wait, pay...back?" She asked, caught up in his touches early to the point where everything became incoherent.

"You know, you can repay the favor later today. I'll let you get away scott free for the morning," he purred, his hands continuing to tease her into submission. He just needed to know he could get her to cave in to him at his leisure. He was talented and he knew it. Now she just had to discover just how talented he was. Upon hearing her sigh in defeat and the clatter of the turner falling to the counter, he knew he was victorious. He had the sense of mind to quickly reach out and turn the burner off before he twirled her around to face him and pressed her into the counter next to the stove, one hand gripping hard enough to her hip to leave finger-sized bruises and the other anchored behind her head to crush her lips to his. She hardly fought back as he kissed her without remorse or mercy, finally granting full consent by moaning and using both hands to grip his back and pull him into her, kissing him back forcibly. He removed the hand from behind her head and trailed it slowly down her body, his fingers grazing ever so slightly against her skin as they made their way to her pants, already unbuttoned. He used both hands now to pull down her pants, and she quickly stepped out of them. He brought his hands up her entire body, from calf to thigh, maddeningly sliding out to her hips then up her stomach, under her tank top, pausing to massage her breasts, then lifting her tank top over her head. Only a bra and her underwear, as well as his pants separated them now.

Quickly now, without show, her panties were gone and discarded, joining the pool of clothes at their feet. He ran his hands back up her sides and then lifted her onto the counter, kissing her on the lips one last time before nipping and sucking nearly painfully--if she could have felt pain at this point--down between the swells of her breasts, down her stomach, then finally finding his target between her legs. She moaned at he played with her, sucking, licking, jabbing, nipping here and there, finding what she liked the best. For 15 minutes he drove her crazy, kept her constantly at the very edge before finding sudden interest in her thigh or stomach. When his fingers joined his tongue, carefully slipping just one into her at first, her moans doubled in volume and she clutched at the cabinets with fierce abandon.

She kept screaming at him, demanding that he stop messing around with those slow, tantalizing motions and hurry up with it when he added a second finger and she gasped. He finally brought his mouth from her skin, fingers still working maddeningly slow but unrelenting inside her, smiling evilly up as he saw her, disheveled and sweating, chest heaving and eyes wild, staring down at him.

"You have to beg," he said simply.

"BEG?! YOU WANT ME TO BEG?!" She screamed, pretty sure she was losing her sanity. The things Malfoy was doing to her body _had_ to have been considered torture. She never felt so close to insanity--or was it sanity? she didn't know, her whole world was flipped around--in her entire life.

"Yes," he said, keeping his voice even and his gaze steady, "I want to hear you beg." She glared at him for a few seconds before realizing he was slowing, and a new flame of fear licked at her body. Was he going to stop?

"No!" she panted, "no! PLEASE, Malfoy, PLEASE would you stop teasing me and just fucking _make me cum!!_ Please Malfoy I NEED to cum! Please, please!!" She was nearly sobbing, frantic for her release. The smirk returned.

"As you wish," he whispered before returning his mouth to her warm wetness and struck out with ceaseless force, finally breaking her through her prison of pleasure into the white light of bliss. Her body jerked as her mind went blank and registered nothing other than pure ecstasy. His fingers, mouth, and tongue worked overtime as she gasped and screamed, moaning and shuddering, cursing and thanking him in one incoherent stream of words. When he was sure she was through, he pulled her knickers up and stood, gloating and prideful, in front of her with his hands on her waist.

"Oh, go bugger yourself Malfoy, I am _so_ going to make you wish you didn't ask me to beg," she bit, pulling her pants back on as soon as she remembered who and where she was. It was by far the best she'd ever had in her life, whether by her own hand or someone else's, but she couldn't let him be all superior about it. She was NOT going to let his smugness go unpunished. He merely laughed. No girl had ever returned the favor with as much...pizzaz?...as he had. He had never been to the point where he would _beg _a girl for anything. They always did the begging. While he was pleased to have one up on Granger, he was obviously not expecting THAT much from her efforts in the upcoming night. She pulled her over shirt back on and shook herself out, re-adjusting herself while Malfoy situated himself on the stood again.

She turned the pan back on and, as soon as she heard the veggies happily snapping and crackling in the butter, cracked an appropriate amount of eggs into the pan, pushing everything around with the turner.

"Why do you always cook food when the Great Hall provides it without effort?" Malfoy asked, watching her tend to breakfast.

"I happen to enjoy cooking, Malfoy. I love food and take pride in it's craft," she answered honestly, glad he wasn't gloating about making her beg. She knew he was still thinking about it, however, and would probably keep that as a prized memory until the day he died. The 'mudblood', begging him. The thought almost made her physically sick. She wouldn't show her embarrassment over it, though, because that would just inflate his ego more.

He shrugged in response and continued to watch her in silence for a few more moments.

"How did you learn?" He inquired, genuinely curious, after she sprinkled in what seemed to him an inexact amount of salt and pepper.

"I used to help my mom in the kitchen when I was little. And I would watch cooking shows when I got home from school." She turned the burner off and picked up the pan, tipping half the contents onto one plate and scraping the rest onto the other. She placed one on the counter in front of Malfoy and left the other by the stove before going to get forks and napkins for the two.

When she returned, she found the Slytherin had filled two glasses with milk, and took one. As he ate at the counter facing into the kitchen, she leaned against the counter and faced him, folding one leg up and placing it on her other knee while balancing on her other leg. The two talked civilly of their classes that day as they finished their meal.

With their food gone and all dishes washed, the two gathered their belongings and made their way towards the door that led to the hallway in comfortable conversation. While they would never be able to truly get along, they could manage stints of good behavior. Before they walked out of the portal, she grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back.

"Malfoy...er, thanks. For the morning...whatever," she did her best not to mumble, a slow blush creeping into her cheeks.

"Yeah, ok. Don't think I'm letting you get away with any of this one-sided business. You owe me. Tonight," he reminded her, snatching his arm away and slapping her smartly on the ass before disappearing out the door.

Tonight. She would have to get back at him for that embarrassing moment of weakness. He should know better than to think SHE would let HIM get away with THAT. Slipping through the door herself, she found a morning after the incident in the kitchen was indeed less stressful. She seemed more at peace in her classes, and did not once feel her mind lose concentration. On ways and methods to make Malfoy sorry, that is.


	8. Chapter 8

Author's note: First of all, this chapter is rather rough as of now, as I have barely checked over submitting it. I put it up to ensure those of you who urged me to continue that I am indeed going to keep working on this! I will polish it later, but here is what I have for now. Second, Thanks to those of you who reviewed. I MUST say the overwhelmingly positive response had encouraged me to keep writing. Remember, the more review I get, the more I want to write! Lastly, This one has a lot of Draco in it, only because the next one is going to deal more with Hermione and her friends. Not that I think many of you will mind :P I can't thank you enough for continuing on in my story with me and I can't properly express my gratitude towards those of you who review. Thank you, returning readers!

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns the world of Harry Potter, I just play in it.

By the time all her classes were over, it was late afternoon and she wanted more than anything to head back to her common room, curl up in a chair and read a book. Instead, she wandered over to the Gryffindor tower without much of a plan. As she was walking up, Ginny emerged from the portrait hole with books gathered in her arms, looking very much as if she was headed for the library.

"Ginny!" the Head Girl called out, waving an arm above her head. The ginger girl quickly noticed her and scurried over. "Are you going to the library?"

"Yeah, you wouldn't believe how much homework I have _already_. I swear, it's like the teachers are trying to overwhelm us and it's only the first week of school!" Ginny whined, shifting her bag on her shoulder hoping to alleviate some strain on her back.

"I know what you mean. Even I'm about ready to wave the white flag already. I have two essays and a particularly long potions assignment due for next week. I hardly have time for anything else," Hermione sighed. _But you have still found time for a little bargaining_, a nasty voice in her head piped up. She closed her eyes for a second and shoved the voice back into the recesses of her head. There was no time for that now.

"Tell me about it," the younger girl didn't seem to notice anything. She just heaved her books up on her hip again and groaned. "So, I take it you haven't gotten a chance to do anything for the, erm, mission?" Ginny had dropped her voice, looking carefully at Hermione now.

"_No_," she hissed, "I haven't gotten a chance after Ron so kindly took all my research. I swear--"

"I heard what happened, Mione, and I'm really sorry. My brother is an oblivious git and he doesn't realize when what he is doing is stupid. I'm also sorry I have to say sorry FOR him, though I know it doesn't pardon him from having to admit his mistake, because he is so stubborn. He really does miss you, though, and so does Harry. All they do is mope around the common room and talk about Quidditch and complain about homework. You _know_ they aren't used to doing that fully on their own," the girl snickered, rolling her eyes as she said it. Hermione sighed.

"I know. And I guess I know he's sorry too. I am, too--to a certain extent! I just...aurg! They can be SO frustrating. I really should go talk to them. But I can't today. I'm still mad at Ron for being so rude. I miss them too. It's weird not having you guys around all the time. Anyways, I can go to the library with you and help you study or look for more information on that...thing," Hermione didn't want to talk about it, even though there was no one else in the hallway.

"Oh, yes please!" Ginny enthused, happy to have company while she worked on her homework. The two girls spent the rest of the afternoon in the library, spending more time talking and less time studying than perhaps necessary. Hermione gathered as many books about Romania as possible, hoping to find something that would help them figure out more about this rumored 'haunted area' that the muggles spoke of.

"Ah, I am so SICK of this!" Ginny groaned, slamming her Runes book shut with a snap. Hermione jumped, her quill splattering ink all across her pages of notes condensed from the stack of books on either side of her. "Whoops, sorry," the redhead said with an sheepish grin.

"No, it's fine. I was about to do the same thing. I'm so sick of this, I just wish I felt like I was getting somewhere with it," she sighed. Her mind had also been playing the events of the last time she had set foot in the library on repeat for the last three hours. It would have been exhausting had she not already come up with what she had to admit was an amazing plan to get back at Malfoy.

She had purposefully skipped stopping at the Heads dormitory throughout the day for the risk of bumping into him alone, instead of in the very public halls of the castle in which she knew he wasn't going to make any remarks or try anything funny. She had merely received the most seductive look she supposed possible as she had rounded the corner on her way to Charms and bumped into him. She quickly played a solid defense by swiftly pressing her body against his, moaning quietly in his ear, and continuing on her way as he stood frozen in shock behind her. A smile tugged at her lips at the memory.

"We'll get there. I'll force my git brother and Harry to come with us next time and we can have a joint research session next time. We need to make progress on this." Hermione thought this was a really good idea, and cursed herself for not thinking of it herself. She was allowing herself to get too preoccupied with the situation with Malfoy. Resolving to spend less time thinking about their hot ittle tryst and more time focused on more important matters, she spoke up,

"That's a great idea, Gin!" The younger girl beamed, "but I think we should probably make it in the Room of Requirement--you know, just in case. Then we can be as loud as we please and take up as much space as necessary. I'll talk to them about it tomorrow when I have a talk with them." She stood and gathered her books, stuffing some into her bag and moving to replace the others on their respective shelves. Ginny followed, a small stack of books for class in hand.

"Alright. I guess I won't say anything, then, until you all have had your little chat. However, I _will_ talk some sense into Ron tonight," Hermione smiled to herself, placing the last book on it's shelf, because she knew Ron was in for an earful that night, "to make sure he understands where he stands with you. He will be properly apologetic tomorrow." The two girls exited the library, Hermione unconsciously following Ginny back to the Gryffindor tower. Remembering she lived elsewhere, she stopped short.

"Oi, Gin, I should probably get back to my dorm by now. I'm starving and I have school work to catch up on"

"Aw, right. Will you be joining us for breakfast tomorrow? Why haven't you been down to the Great Hall recently?" Ginny questioned, pausing to say goodbye to her friend.

"Oh, I accidentally overslept today, and had to skip food in order to make class on time," she lied quickly. _I've been fixing food for the enemy and he was busy sticking his hands in my pants this morning. _

"Hermione! You can't be doing that so early in the year, especially as Head Girl!" Ginny sounded concerned, "is the side project for the Order taking too much time? We will help you, I promise!"

"Thanks Gin, it's not that. Well, it is. That and other things. My plate is so full right now. But it's fine, I've dealt with more in the past. I will just be sure to not sleep through my alarm again. I really have to get going if I want to feed myself and finish my homework for tonight, though," _and thoroughly punish Malfoy for that stunt he pulled this morning_.

"Sure thing, Mione, get back and **get some sleep tonight**. I'll see you tomorrow! Bye!" As the two girls parted ways, Hermione checked her watch. It was around nine o'clock. She headed back towards the tower she called home, figuring she couldn't put off her revenge. No matter how excited she was to get back at the blond prat, she was apprehensive. What if her plan didn't work? What if he just laughed at her feeble attempts? As she turned down the last corridor before the Heads Dorm, Hermione ducked into a bathroom. Although no one was around, she quickly headed into one of the stalls, fastening the bolt before removing her blouse and tank top. Carefully, although her hands were shaking, she put her blouse back on and buttoned it up enough to cover her white satin bra and cleavage. After neatly folding her tank top and tucking it into her bag, she emerged from the stall and walked over to the floor length mirror. Pulling the hair tie from her pony tail, she used her fingers to fluff and tease her hair until it was no longer wild, but what she hoped could be interpreted as "sexy messy." She left the bathroom and made her way swiftly to the portrait of the two horses.

When she stepped through the portrait hole, she breathed a discrete sigh of relief; Malfoy sat in the arm chair more or less directly across from the doorway, immersed in a book. After taking a quick moment to take in the picture of him sitting undisturbed, hair hanging in front of his face like a curtain. She would have assumed he was rather peaceful at the moment, had she believe she was capable the horrible Slytherin was capable of that state. She slid her bag off her shoulder and let it hit the ground next to her with a dull _thud_. He looked up, startled. _Well, now or never._ When he saw her, he smirked and she assumed he was about to speak before she cut him off with a shush and strode slowly towards him in her best impersonation of a sultry gait, slowly unbuttoning her top to reveal her bra. His mouth, which had snapped shut, now hung slightly open.

_What was she doing?_ he thought, eyes that had slowly taken in her figure when he first realized her presence now drawn to the fingers that were slowly exposing the creamy skin of her torso.

"I'm paying you back. I told you I would, and I keep my promises," she said in a low voice, and it sounded more even than she felt. Was she going to pull this off? He seemed to be buying her best efforts at seduction.

"Well, well..." he sneered, reaching to grab her swaying hips when she got within arm's reach. She slapped his hands away.

"Ah ah, Malfoy, not yet," she scolded, wagging her finger at him. She trailed her fingers down the slim patch of bare skin, stopping at the waist of her jeans. She watched as his silver eyes followed the motion, darkening ever so slightly as a small crooked smile appeared on his face. As she pried the button loose, she realized she had a mirror of that smile playing across her own lips and hoped he thought it was sexy, because she was doing the best she could. She had been planning this all day.

Slowly, she unzipped the zipper while she kept her eyes glued to his face, gaging his reaction. He actually seemed to be into this.

"Merlin, Grang-" she cut him off by placing her fingers on his lips.

He was so shocked by Granger's bold behavior that he had completely forgotten about the book that lay open in his lap. He could not, and perhaps did not want to, tear his eyes from her hands, undoing her pants with maddening care. He did not like to be kept waiting. If she kept up this amazingly tempting charade, he may HAVE to attack her every morning. He knew he was good, but his partners had never been this _inspired _or _creative_ before. And, if he knew Hermione, she always put her best effort into everything she did. He was starting to think he was going to enjoy this evening very much.

Hermione turned unhurriedly on her heel, turning her head to keep an eye on his reaction, as she slipped her thumbs under her pants at her hips and deliberately pulled them down, accompanied with a fluid shimmy of her hips, until they fell to her ankles. She stepped out of them and towards Malfoy, who remained in his seat, his eyes wide and breath coming in shorter gasps. She bent down, giving him a lovely view of her bosom that hung tortuously in front of him before she caught his lips in a fierce kiss.

The ferocity of the kiss startled Draco. She had spent the last few minutes being so teasing and slow that he was nearly unprepared for her attack. Not forgetting himself, he rose to the challenge and grasped the back of her head, cementing her face to his. Heat raced through his body and his skin burned where it came into contact with his nemesis. He was already so hot and all she had done was kiss him--he was impressed with her, although he would never admit it. When she reached down to his lap, the heat concentrated there and he slid forward slightly in anticipation. He could feel her smirk against his lips as she simply shut the tomb in his lap and set it on the table next to them, carefully avoiding the touch he wanted most while continuing to torment him with her kiss.

Suddenly, she climbed into his lap and straddled him, deepening the kiss and using the hand that wasn't twisted into his hair to rake her fingernails down his arm. He gasped against her mouth and she took the opportunity to move onto his neck. Then, as she had so methodically planned throughout the day, she began to grind her hips against his. Although he was still wearing slacks, she could feel his arousal against the soft cotton of her underwear. Decidedly not hating the feeling, she began to press her pelvis harder against his, moving with more enthusiasm as she trailed kisses down the side of his neck before she nipped rather hard at the point where his neck met his shoulders. She felt his muscles tense under her before he, too, was moving his hips in time with her. He was moaning now. Not the small, self-conscious, I-kinda-like-what-you're-doing sort but the full blown I-need-more-of-that groans that she feared were audible in the hallway. At this point, she threw caution to the wind and chimed in every so often with what Malfoy instantly decided was the most sensual noise he'd ever heard. Apparently he was enjoying this as much, if not more, than she was. As she sucked mercilessly at his neck, he slipped a hand under her blouse to grope her breast for a second before sliding it to her lower back to pull her body closer to his.

Pausing her vigorous work at his neck, Hermione sat back a little, sliding her arse further into his lap, to yank Malfoy's shirt off. He obliged immediately, lifting his arms over his head to ease her efforts. They were instantly brought back together, tongues battling and hands grasping, pushing, pulling. Hermione stretched her fingers across Malfoy's smooth chest, following the precise pattern of cream covered muscle to the waistband of his pants. He was already impossibly hard, and it felt amazing to thrust her hips against his, but she maintained her semblance of control enough to bite his lip one last time before sliding to the floor at his feet; she looked up into his eyes that were now exceptionally dark with lust as she wasted no time unfastening and removing his pants. Only his boxers remained between the two of them.

_I can't believe this is working! _Hermione thought as she paused, suddenly nervous to proceed. They were both incredibly turned on--faces flushed, skin tingling at the slightest touch, and breath coming in short pants--and she could not have possibly thought her plan would have proceeded so well. Before she had very low confidence in her powers of seduction but after tonight that would surely change. If she could get Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin sex god, this hot without removing his underwear, she could assume it was something that somehow came naturally to her. This shocked her beyond all else. Before that summer, she had never done anything more than engage in a few admittedly tame kisses. Now she was on her knees before one of the (she hated herself for admitting this, even to herself) most attractive boys in the school, and now it did not matter whether or not he might as well be the Dark Lord's son. She was going to suck his dick anyway.

Finally, after the few seconds it took her to work up the courage, she pulled his underwear off and wrapped her fingers around what was, to her experience, a very well endowed boy. He growled how when she took him in her mouth and swirled her tongue around him, experimenting with all sorts of tricks she had heard those other girls gossiping about in the common room in earlier years. With the combination of her hands, lips, tongue and surprisingly non-existent gag reflex, Malfoy was soon sweating and moaning, trying to press himself further into her mouth. She was delighting in the noises that he was making, herself soaking through her underwear, when she remembered her mission. Just in time, too, because Malfoy was gaining in both volume and persistence. Slowly, she released him from her mouth and...did he just whimper? She looked up at him. His chest was heaving and he was staring down at her with wild eyes. Her hand slid slowly up and down him as she slowly flicked her tongue out and across him.

"Gods, Granger, that is the most ero-" he began, voice husky.

"Ah ah! I make the rules" she stressed, squeezing him slightly. He gasped and squeezed his eyes shut for a second. "Now, do you want to cum?" She said, licking him once again like a lollypop before smirking up at him.

"Merlin, yes! Don't you _dare _make me beg, you wench...!" He began, two fires blazing behind his eyes. He refused to sink to that level. He'd rather return to his room by himself or take a cold shower before doing that.

"No, no, no, Malfoy. That's not what I'm asking of you. I'd simply like an apology. For making _me_ beg this morning." Her hand continued it's slow path up and down.

"No! I won't! I-" He stammered, checks pink with indignation. The smirk returned to her face.

"You _do_ realize that two can play your game, don't you, Malfoy?" She lowered her mouth to him once again and continued all the attention he was receiving before, but much _much_ slower this time. Painfully slow. Malfoy moaned, trying to buck up further into her mouth, anything for more friction, more heat, just _more_. He couldn't believe the girl in front of him. Hermione Granger was literally driving him insane. He was about to start yelling at her if she didn't pick up the pace. She simply smiled up at him from around him, groaning slightly in a way that sent shivers of pleasure through his entire body. The hair on his neck stood on end. He had no idea she was such an innately sexual creature.

Most of the girls he was used to had been at it for at least a year or two, giving them loads more experience than the brunette between his legs. He previously thought their experience had put them just under the pleasure of having a virgin. He was wrong. Having awakened this erotic being inside Hermione was the best thing he felt he could have ever done. All the other girls were jaded and boring, they had gotten into a habit and while it could be good, he realized they had the missing spark of interest, creativity, curiosity. He thanked his lucky stars for kissing her that first night in the library. But now, he couldn't comprehend any of this. The only thought in his mind was to get off. His only conscious thought comprised of a string of curse words that were silently begging, pleading, apologizing and ordering Granger to finally let him cum. He couldn't hold on any longer. He was sure he was going to explode before she let him off. His reserve shattered, and he it was all he could do to keep from sobbing.

"FINE! Thats-thats it. I give in. I'm s-s-sorry! Granger just PLEASE, I s-said I'm s-sorry. Now Let me bloody CUM!!" He cried, the scream ripping through his throat before he gave it permission.

"You're sorry?"

"YES! I j-just said that!"

"And you _promise_ not to make me beg again?"

"Yes, yes, I pr-promise!"

Hermione also betrayed the look of astonishment on her face. She was sure he had just about to walk away. She had managed to get him to cave. As the thrill of victory flushed through her body, she finally put life and vigor into the actions she had been so carefully, so agonizingly controlling--she had wanted none other than to prove to him just how good it would be with her--and finally brought him crashing through every level of reality until he sat, jerking with the intensity of orgasm, in perfect, pure clarity for longer than he could even imagine. The world was beautiful. The universe was perfect. Although he was sure it couldn't have been more than 15 seconds, it felt like a moment of eternity. Hermione readily accepted everything he had to offer here, lapping every drop up. Finally his lungs seemed to accept oxygen again, and it took him a while to figure out what had happened.

Hermione slithered back up him and straddled him again, though she hovered over him and did not sit in his lap. Then, she kissed him hard, forcing him to taste himself on her tongue. Whether he was still stupefied by what she had just done to him or whether he just didn't care, she couldn't figure it out, but he did not reject her. He kissed her back with as much energy as he could muster up. He felt like he has just run a marathon, and he was panting. Hermione felt nearly as tired as he did from the effort, but still felt incredibly horny.

He seemed to note that edge in her kiss, pulling her away and pulling up one side of his mouth to form a half-hearted sneer.

"A little worked up, are you?" he laughed, grabbing her waist and sitting her back onto his knees, facing him. Her brain couldn't think fast enough to come up with a lie so she grudgingly told him the truth.

"Merlin yes, wouldn't you be?" her face was flushed and her breathing was uneven, "but whatever, I can deal with it. I don't think I want to owe you again, just yet." He chuckled, bringing his mouth to her collar bone.

"Well, can you?" he asked, nipping at the skin there. She sucked in a gulp of air in surprise.

"Can I...what?" she questioned, narrowing her eyes at the top of his blond head. He paused and looked up at her with humor in his eyes.

" 'Deal with it', you know, yourself," he smirked full-on now, scanning her face for the embarrassment he was sure would color her cheeks.

"Well, I mean, yes. You don't expect me to have gone this long...without, do you? Even without someone?" she replied without shame, and his hands tightened their grip on her hips. Something shifted behind his eyes.

"Hmpfh," he made a noise of thoughtful surprise, then a devilish look edged onto his face, radiating from his eyes, "how about you let me watch."

"What?!" Hermione gasped, shocked at his audacity.

"You heard me. Let me watch. It's not like it's some kind of private moment I've never witnessed from you before." He nipped at her collar bone again, and as she shifted slightly on his knees she was reminded that she had planned on doing just that once she was alone in her room.

"You...want to watch me? You want to see me touch myself?" she asked, getting used to the idea, "you expect that I'll be thinking of you, is that it?" Her hand slid down her body, brushing slightly against her knickers.

"Oh, I _know_ you'll be thinking about me whether you get yourself off right here in my lap or in your bed in ten minutes," he drawled, moving his mouth down to kiss the swell of her breast.

It didn't take more than five minutes for Hermione to find her own release, worked up as she was. Finally, out of breath and squirming in Malfoy's arms, she shuddered as her orgasm ripped through her body. The Head Boy pulled her against his shoulder and brought her hand to his mouth after a second, licking her fingers clean. The two sat, enjoying her handiwork, for a minute before Hermione stretched out in his lap and glanced at the clock on the wall.

"I need to get to bed. I was going to wake up early tomorrow to get a little extra work done before classes tomorrow," she said, shifting herself our of Malfoy's arms. She had begun to feel uncomfortable, as she was sure he was, to be cuddling like that. A minute or two was nice but enough was enough. She was exhausted enough to collapse into bed and go to sleep right then.

"Right. Goodnight then, Granger," he replied, gathering his things to return to his room as well.

When Hermione stepped into the bathroom to shower, she purposely left Malfoy's door wide open, his bed in full view. When he came in to brush his teeth, she was just rinsing the suds out of her hair and they were running in little channels down her body. He watched her throughout his bathroom routine, whistling low in appreciation once after he spat the toothpaste from his mouth as she used her loofah to clean her body. She laughed and curtsied for him, and he left the bathroom, keeping the door open. She finished her shower, toweled off, and brushed her teeth before pulling on an old, oversized shirt. That night she had barely climbed into bed before she felt herself carried off to sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

Author's note: I didn't quite get to Hermione's meeting with the boys in this chapter. That will be next for sure. Please please review. I love the feedback, good or bad. Tell me what I'm doing right, but more importantly, tell me what I need to fix or change. Thank you to those kind readers who have already left me their thoughts!

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns the world of Harry Potter, I just play in it.

The remaining two days in the school week passed quickly for Hermione. Between her essays, the rest of her homework, patrols, and classes, she never found a spare moment to hunt down Ron and Harry and talk to them--straighten things out. Also, she didn't find--create? allow?--another chance to, er, _meet_ with Malfoy. It honestly didn't bother her, either. Twice in one day seemed plenty to her; she had been exhausted.

That Friday afternoon she was sitting on one of the couches in the Heads common room when Malfoy came smirking in through the portrait hole, towing a short, slim redhead behind him. At first glance, Hermione thought it might have been Ginny, but a second look assured her it was a younger Ravenclaw she recognized from the library. The girl had the manners to look properly embarrassed and couldn't seem to make eye contact with Hermione. _What, does he routinely troll the library for horny young girls?_ She nearly snorted when she saw him wink at her, then continue on to him room, shutting the door behind them.

She really wasn't angry that he was parading his sexual conquests around in front of her--she did not feel overly possessive of the Head Boy--and she knew he was trying to get her worked up. She also knew she couldn't keep up with his libido. He had been working on his sexual appetite for years, building up his tolerance level like a drug addict. That thought made Hermione laugh to herself--she wouldn't be surprised to hear that Draco couldn't go a week without sex. Had he not been so obviously flaunting the girl in front of her, trying to get a reaction, she may have been more angry. By now, she knew he was just trying to get on her nerves and get her riled up for his entertainment. She refused to take the bait.

That night she spent with Ginny, checking out the last few books that could possibly have been helpful between serious catch-up sessions. Apparently, Lavender had just discovered "the joys of hanging out with boys, you know, without clothes on," as Ginny so mildly put it, and it had caused quite a commotion in the Gryffindor tower for a week or two before the girls decided not to entertain the girl's need to be the center of attention. Padma was going through what Ginny deemed an identity crisis and had cut her hair to a short bob, which accented her oval face surprisingly well, in order to be seen as a different person than her sister. She still, however, spent the majority of her time in Parvati's company, enjoying the activities they had always shared together. So much for a 'new identity'.

Hermione did not particularly enjoy or advocate gossip, but she missed the company of her friend and the antics of the House she had grown to be a part of. It was tough being on bad terms with Harry and Ron because that meant she was cutting herself off not only from her best friends--which hurt the most--but also from her second family. As she listened to Ginny ramble on, Hermione saw a common thread weave through each new piece of gossip, stitching together the loose thoughts in her mind. These individuals were trying to discover their identities, trying to figure out who they were and who they were to become. She had often times found herself wandering down that dark pathway, late at night when she couldn't sleep, wondering what she would find in the light at the end. Every time she took that journey, however, that light seemed to grow more and more distant. With the upcoming war, it was hard _not_ to spend so much time on such things.

She knew her cause was undoubtably the correct one, but at times she worried whether or not good could actually overcome evil. She knew even from her experiences at Hogwarts that hate was a powerful device that, if properly agitated and directed, could be nearly unstoppable. Then, she would consider all the love she had in her life. There were, of course, her parents. They loved here more than anything she could imagine in this world. Having the unswerving and constant foundation of their love was the base upon which she was able to build her successful life. She knew she would be a fraction of herself without their love. Then there were her friends. Ron and Harry, no matter what they said to her or how dumb they acted sometimes, always had her back. Without the strength of the friendship like theirs, she could not have flourished into the confident individual she was. They knew she was a glutton for knowledge and could somehow never find a way to keep her hand down in class, and they accepted her and loved her for it all the same. Ginny was similar, but she had the female connection with her. The boys could be gabbing away for days about Quidditch or fuming on about Snape and all Hermione would have to do is look at Ginny and she would know they were on the same wavelength. _Millicent Bulstrode should _not_ have worn that top today, she looks like a man. Let's meet up later to work on our charms together. Doesn't that color make Ernie Macmillan's eyes look to die for?_ She didn't consider herself a silly girl, but with Ginny she allowed herself the luxury of voicing such stray remarks, knowing Ginny wouldn't hold anything against her. It was a friendship she truly counted on when she had pressing matters she didn't feel comfortable discussing with the boys.

However, she also knew the crushing force of evil and hatred. While she didn't have that destructive influence in her life, she could easily see what it did to those around her. The perfect model was none other than her co-Head, Draco Malfoy. She was sure his parents--his father, at the very least--never showed much compassion for him. From his birth, he was molded and directed, preened to follow in his father's footsteps. All for the lust for power, the thirst for influence. Being good offered self-satisfying rewards, following evil's path tempted individuals with control, influence, fortune. It is easy to control a world gripped in fear--no one would dare to contradict you for fear of their own lives. Sighing, she felt conflicted about Malfoy. Especially now that she was being _physical_ with him, she felt somewhat responsible for him. She knew she was not to make any ties, but she couldn't fight the urge to save him. Well, maybe that was being a little dramatic. Maybe she if she could just show him that it _was_ possible to step out from his father's shadow, to create his own footsteps...but it all seemed impossible. The boy was so filled with years of evil and loathing--following the path of least resistance to hate without questioning because it was easier than forming his own opinions. That is what scared her the most about Voldemort's army. A set of individuals, scared out of their minds, desperate for a scrap of power, wild for their master's approval, without a thought of their own in their heads, lunging after _her _throat. There was no way they could succeed, right? Right? That's what she kept telling herself, but she knew the motivation behind fear could be more powerful than that behind the desire for doing what was right. At least, it was easier.

Ginny noticed the distance in her friend's eyes and stopped in the middle of her musings over who Hannah Abbott's secret boyfriend may be.

"Earth to Hermione!" she called, snapping in front of the older girl's face. Hermione awoke from her daze with a start and shook her head, returning to reality.

"Sorry--a lot on my mind," she mumbled, groping around the table at the books they had gathered, "can we just finish this tomorrow? I need some rest." Ginny looked slightly puzzled, but knew better than to bother her about it. She couldn't even imagine the amount of stress the Head Girl must be under, since she herself was barely able to keep her head above water and it was only the end of the first week.

Hermione was back in her common room before she realized she had even moved. She vaguely recalled agreeing to meet with Ginny and the boys at noon tomorrow at the Room of Requirement, then bidding her redheaded friend goodnight. She could tell Ginny knew she was preoccupied, but was thankful that the girl hadn't pestered her about it. She was exhausted and she just wanted to go to sleep. She set her bag down and walked over to the kitchen, rummaging in the cabinet where a slew of medical potions were stored.

"Granger? Hello...?!" Malfoy's sharp voice cut through the fog that seemed to disorient her mind.

"Er, yeah?" she replied, puzzled, as she continued to rummage.

"Didn't you hear anything I just said?" he was staring intently at her. She shook her head, wishing she didn't live in a time where she couldn't know whether or not she was going to live to see her 18th birthday. Wishing this wasn't her war to fight, that the people in her world could just learn a thing or two about tolerance. She focused her eyes on Malfoy and felt unreasonable anger begin to burn the fog out of her brain. People like him were the reason she was in this position.

"No, I'm not in the mood to deal with your insults or get you off tonight. Sorry," she snapped finding the potion she was looking for. He blinked and she was sure he would have looked surprised if he was not so practiced at hiding his expressions. He read the label of the vial she was holding instead.

"Dreamless sleep potion? Granger, what in Merlin's name..." he began, testily.

"I said not tonight. I'm going to sleep, enjoy the rest of your Friday," she said, turning on her heel and retreating to her room. Before she managed to shut her door, she heard him call after her something about who would possibly be going to bed at nine thirty on a Friday night. She didn't care. She was sick of constantly worrying, making plans and being responsible. She wanted to be a kid again. The last thing she wanted right then was to lie in bed for hours with everything whirling around in her head, staring up at the ceiling. The responsibilities of Head Girl, all of her classwork, the tangled mess of a relationship she was weaving with Malfoy and her work for the Order on top of it all were starting to wear her thin and it had only been one week of school

She peeled off her clothing and slipped into bed without brushing her teeth. Downing the contents of the vial, she closed her eyes as she listened to Malfoy bump around particularly loudly in the common room as he prepared to leave for the evening.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

She opened her eyes, and gave a startled gasp. Her room, pitch dark a second ago, was now dim with the murky light of dawn. Looking over at her clock, she quickly determined that 11 hours had passed in the blink of her eyes. However, she felt incredibly well rested and her mind seemed clearer, neater than it had been the night before as she stretched and dragged herself over to the bathroom. That dreamless sleep potion was a miracle in a vial, she decided thankfully as the steamy shower chased the remaining fog from her brain. Just as she was toweling off and getting dressed for the day, she heard the handle on Malfoy's door jiggle and muffled cursing behind the heavy door. She smiled to herself as she took an extra few minutes on her morning routine before unlocking the door.

"About time, Granger!" he bit, striding into the bathroom. The wonderful night's sleep hadn't cured her of her impatience for his antics just yet and she made her way to her own door before he could get too close to her.

"Enjoy your shower, Malfoy," she said, leaving no room for further comments as she shut the door behind her.

Making french toast that morning, the boy showering in the next room remained in her thoughts. He was, undoubtably, a cruel and malicious person. He was prejudiced and uncaring and ruthless. However, he was also incredibly smart and, though she hated to admit it, extremely good looking. At times, she even found herself enjoying his company. Most of those times included their breakfasts or study breaks together, or when they were in various states of undress, yet they still existed. She wondered about his character. Because he kept himself so carefully guarded and she was so used to being able to read those who surrounded her--usually her friends--fairly easily, it was difficult for her to decide who he was. Was he cruel because he was taught that or cruel because that is what he enjoyed? She had no idea what growing up in his house had been like. But with his brain and his ambition, he could easily be a huge asset to the Order. This war was all about advantages and she would take every last one she was given the opportunity to take. Although they had a mutual understand that, after their huge fights at the very beginning of the term, the subject of the was was taboo, off limits, Hermione decided to broach the topic as they ate that morning anyways.

Just as Hermione finished cutting the slices of now golden french toast diagonally into triangles and stacking them neatly onto two plates, Draco emerged from his shower--shirtless again. She dusted the french toast with powdered sugar, ignoring him as he grabbed two glasses from the cupboard and filled them with milk. When he sat down, she held out his plate to him and tore her eyes away from a stray water droplet finding its way down his smooth, pale chest. _Focus, Hermione._ She leaned against the counter by the stove as usual and watched him carefully as he tucked into his meal.

"What?" he asked slowly, noticing her scrutiny. He stopped chewing as if he suspected what she had done to the food.

"Nothing," she said, as if it wasn't the end of her thought. his eyes narrowed at her.

"_What?" _he asked again, annoyed now.

"I don't know, I was just wondering..." she was nervous to start the conversation now.

"Out with it, Granger!" he growled.

"Ok, fine. Promise you won't yell at me? Or throw things? Promise you'll stay in your seat?" she tried to figure out how best to preserve her health--or life, with a temper like his--for this subject.

"What are you going on about?"

"Promise," she repeated, as an order.

"As if you would put any stake in one of my promises. We both know you better than that, Granger," he said, the suspicion shifting from the food to the girl standing across the counter from where he sat.

"Fine. I guess it wouldn't make me feel better anyways. I just wanted to know, are you happy?" He almost choked, but carefully kept composure.

"And what does this have to do with me yelling at you?"

"Well, I mean, with your...er...path," she said, unsure how to phrase her inquiry. It had all sounded so focused in her head, but she realized she actually didn't know how to bring this up with him.

"Why are you concerned?"

"Why aren't you answering my questions?" She could tell her was getting angry, but he wasn't going to show it. Not yet, anyways.

"I don't think this is a conversation to be having with you, Granger. You are not to be concerned with my life. Just because we have this _deal--_" he replied, sidestepping again.

"We're both Heads, Malfoy. We're going to be living together all year. I am going to concern myself with your life whether or not you approve because what you do impacts my life as well," she reminded him. He sighed and rolled his eyes.

"What do you want, Granger?"

"Why do you take orders? How do you go along with what others tell you without so much as a question or an objection, if you have no say in your own life? I know you're much too smart for that." As soon as Malfoy realized the direction this conversation was taking, he stiffened and set his fork carefully on his plate. His eyes blazed.

"That is _none_ of your concern, mudblood," he said, managing to keep his voice level, "I make the decisions in my life and they are not for you to question."

"But you _don't_, Malfoy, you've been trained and groomed from the time you were born! With a brain and drive like yours, how could you let someone else determine your life?" She had set her plate down now, and was gesturing mildly with her hands.

"I believe I have _decided_ to follow my father-"

"Because of what he has been teaching you for your whole life!"

"-on my own accord. Have you ever thought that maybe you are the wrong one here? Maybe you've chosen the wrong path?" He wasn't yelling, he wasn't throwing things. He hadn't even stood up. From a distance, one might mistake their conversation for a civil one.

"Maybe I have, but at leave I've picked it for myself," she said, crossing her arms across her chest. "But I care about my friends and my family and I don't want to see them destroyed over this war. You would be a great asset to our side, Malfoy. Consider it. Just because someone has repeated the same thing to you over and over does not make it right."

"I will not discuss this with you anymore, Granger," he said, picking up his fork again. "I am looking out for my own personal safety and I will pick my own path, the one where I end up alive at the end of this-"

"Don't you care about the ideals you're fighting for?"

"- and nothing you tell me can change my mind, just like nothing I say can change yours. I implore you do not bring this up again. This french toast is very good. Is that vanilla I taste?"

"Yes," she sighed, doubtful that anything she said had any impact on him. She picked up her plate and began to eat again.


End file.
